


Winteriron Prompt Fills - 2017

by 27dragons



Series: imaginetonyandbucky fills [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-25 15:36:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 25,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9826811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons
Summary: Short (under 3000 word) prompt fills originally written for the imaginetonyandbucky blog during 2017. (Prompt fills over 3000 words will be posted as standalone fics; everything is listed in theImagine Tony and Buckycollection.) The prompts, along with rating and applicable warnings, are provided in the chapter summary for each fic.





	1. 07-Jan-2017: Noir/Mob Continuation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** G
> 
> **Prompt:** I would love to see a continuation of everyworldneedslove mafia/noir AU! Maybe the conversation between Bucky and Tony about setting up the meeting with Steve? Thanks! --kaylee-rose21
> 
> **Warnings:** None
> 
> **Note:** This is a continuation of [this prompt fill](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3603543/chapters/9222952).

Tony’s eyes lit up when Bucky came through the door, and no matter how nervous Bucky might be, he couldn’t help but smile in return. “Hey, darlin’, sorry I’m a bit late,” Bucky said, handing his hat over to Mr. Jarvis with a nod of thanks. Mr. Jarvis, imperturbable as always, merely took it and closed the door behind him.

“It’s all right; Pepper’s been driving me like a twenty-dollar mule today anyway,” Tony said. He only half-ducked the playful swat Ms. Potts gave him, grinning widely. Tony was going over some books with her; Bucky politely stayed on the far side of the office where he wouldn’t be tempted to snoop. “You eaten yet?” Tony asked, as if he didn’t already know the answer. He ran a finger down a column of numbers in the ledger in front of him, and Bucky knew from experience that he’d already added them up in his head, just that fast. “Got a new singer at the Iron; thought we might have dinner there.”

“Another five minutes and he’s all yours,” Ms. Potts told Bucky.

Bucky caught his breath by the tail. Christ, he hadn’t been this nervy since the first time he’d been sent down the river. “Actually, ma’am, you might want to stay, a minute or two.”

That caught their attention. Tony actually looked up from the accounts and Potts straightened, her hands folding in front of her, deceptively calm. “Why’s that, Buck?” Tony asked.

Bucky met Tony’s eyes and tried not to wonder if this was the last time he’d see them. Or if they were the last thing he’d ever see again. “You know the thing we don’t talk about?”

Potts was suddenly holding a knife that had come from God only knew where, but Tony leaned back in his fancy chair, insouciant and easy. It was as much a danger sign as Steve’s soft voice, and Bucky swallowed hard. “We’re doing this now?” Tony said, but it didn’t seem like a question he expected an answer for.

“Baby–”

“Don’t,” Tony said tightly. “Don’t call me that if you’re here for  _business_.” He made it sound like a dirty word.

“Yeah, you’re– Okay.” Bucky closed his eyes for a couple of seconds.  _Christ, stop acting like a green rookie on his first handoff. You’re the god damned Winter Soldier._  “Mr. Stark,” he started again, opening his eyes just in time to catch the flicker of hurt on Tony’s face before it got locked down. “I’ve been sent with an offer from Captain Rogers of Shield.”

Neither Tony nor Ms. Potts looked surprised, which shouldn’t have been a surprise to Bucky, but somehow was.

“An offer, is that what they call it now?” Tony said. “I’ve gotta say, Barnes - you shoot me, and you’re not going to leave this room alive.”

“Business or no business, Tony, if I shoot you, I’m not sure I wanna be alive much longer,” Bucky snapped. Tony’s eyebrows went up at that. “I ain’t a spy and I sure as hell ain’t no honeypot,” Bucky said. “And if I’d meant to kill you, I couldda just kept my trap shut and waited ‘til we were alone.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to calm down. “You didn’t tell me your name ‘til I was already in too deep to walk away. I was hopin’ to keep Rogers out of it for a while longer, but my hand was forced.” He opened his coat, moving slow and careful so no one would think he was going for his piece, and pulled the pictures from his inside pocket. He tossed them on the desk. “Looks like you ain’t quite done cleanin’ house yet.”

Potts used the tip of her knife to drag the topmost picture across the desk toward them. “Someone with access to the VIP room at the Iron,” she said, and shot a look at Tony.

Tony eyed the photo, then looked back up at Bucky. “Whoever took the pictures sold ‘em to Rogers,” he said.

Bucky nodded. “Through a tangle of middlemen,” he said. “We’re working on untangling it. Gesture of faith, Rogers said.”

“Gesture of faith,” Potts repeated, elegant eyebrow raised. “What’s he want?”

“Parlay,” Bucky said. “You and him, two enforcers apiece, neutral ground of your choosing.”

Tony looked at Bucky, unblinking, for a long moment. “Potts,” he said, not looking away from Bucky, “give us a minute.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Tony.”

Tony turned his gaze on his second. She didn’t flinch from it, her expression as flinty as his. “Said it himself,” Tony said. “If he wanted me dead, he could’ve had me. Tell Jarvis we’ll have dinner in, with company, and then go find Rhodes and Banner. We’ll have a strategy meeting.”

That sounded promising, but… strategy meeting for the parlay, or for a war?

Potts fingered her knife for a heartbeat longer, then made it disappear (and Bucky  _still_  didn’t know where she’d gotten it from). She stalked from the room on shoes that looked damn near as lethal as the blade, not deigning to even look at Bucky.

“I didn’t want this, Tony,” Bucky said as soon as the door closed behind her. “ _I love you_. You gotta know that. I was happy with things the way they were.”

Tony grunted. He rolled to his feet and crossed to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. “We both knew we couldn’t ignore it forever,” he said. “Though I resent the hell out of the choice being taken out of our hands.” He knocked back half the whiskey in his glass in one smooth, practiced motion. “What’s Rogers want?”

“To see for himself about your change in management,” Bucky said. “Make sure it’s not gonna come down to problems for any of ours. Get a feel for your new direction, see if the Shields and Starks could be allies, or at least neighbors.”

“Mm.” Tony swirled the glass around slowly, watching the whiskey’s legs run back down the sides of the glass. “I thought the Captain wasn’t one for forming alliances. You the reason he’s considering an exception?”

“Kinda, I guess,” Bucky said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I told him what I knew about how you handled Stane, and the changes you’ve been making since then. Told him I thought you’d make a good team.”

“And who are you, exactly, that the most stubborn man in Brooklyn will change his tune for you?” Tony demanded.

“His friend,” Bucky said. Tony raised a sardonic eyebrow, and Bucky shrugged, because that was nothing more or less than the truth. “We grew up together, and when he decided enough was enough and he was gonna kick Hydra to the curb and take over the business, I couldn’t do nothin’ but stand at his back.”

Tony’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “Oh my God. You’re the  _Winter Soldier_.  _You’re_  the Winter Soldier.  _You’re the Winter Soldier_.”

Bucky glared, not that his glare had ever intimidated Tony even for a second. “You don’t have to keep saying it.” The street name hadn’t been of his choosing and he still resented it. No one who knew him personally ever used it.

“I’ve been knocking boots with the Winter–”

“All  _right_  already,” Bucky growled.

Tony was laughing now, slightly hysterically. “Oh my God. Pepper is going to  _kill_  me when she finds out.”

“Does that mean you agree to the meeting?” Bucky asked hopefully.

“Yes, I suppose I do. You think you’ll be one of Rogers’ two?”

Bucky considered that. “Normally I’d say yes, but he… might be concerned about my bias, this time.”

Tony tipped back the last of his whiskey and set the glass down with careful precision. “Tell him I want you there. If he won’t have you as one of his two, then in some other capacity.”

“That’s… not gonna help him get past the bias question,” Bucky pointed out. “Whatcha need me there for, particular?”

Tony stepped into Bucky’s space and kissed him, quick and light, but enough to give Bucky a taste of the whiskey still on Tony’s tongue. “Because I want to see your face if we decide to seal the deal with a wedding.”

 

 


	2. 19-Jan-2017: Five Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompts:**  
>  \- Hi i just wanted to say i adore ypu blog❤️ So my prompt is a Highschool AU with a Nerdy!Shy!Tony and a Popular!Jock!Bucky and bucky askes him on a date and you can get creative after that or just finish it there! Thanky You --werewolfsinatub  
> \- In high school, Tony was in love with the school’s star quarterback, Ty, who used and abused him. Bucky was in love with Tony, but beyond smiles and friendly gestures Tony didn’t really notice him. 5 yrs later Tony is quite disillusioned with chasing after people who stomp on his heart, and is determined to live a quiet life with his roommate, fellow scientist Bruce. All that changes when he meets Bucky (now a mechanical engineer) at a tech conference. --Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** Emotionally abuse relationship

_**Now** _

“C’mon, Brucie, stop looking like you’re carrying an unexploded bomb and have some fun!”

Bruce sighed and pulled the lanyard over his head. “It’s a robotics conference, Tony; I don’t think ‘fun’ is really the word you’re looking for.”

“Sure it is!” Tony said, sweeping his arm to encompass the labyrinthine showroom hall they were entering. “Cutting edge gadgets! Demos that are going to fail horribly to laugh at! All the free crappy pens and stickynotes and branded toys you can shake a stick at! And best of all, booth babes!”

“Your idea of fun and mine are very, very different.” Bruce rolled his eyes, but he gamely accepted the bag that Tony handed him to put marketing swag in. The bit about booth babes was bullshit; Tony hadn’t so much as gone on a date in almost two years, focusing instead on building his fledgling company.

Tony consulted the floor map. “Let’s see, where should we start?” Bruce didn’t bother answering. He’d only agreed to come with Tony to the conference because the symposium on medical applications of miniaturized robotics sounded interesting. “Oooh, robotics-enhanced prosthetics!” Tony crowed. “That’s right up my alley, come on!” He charged up one crowded aisle without looking to see if Bruce was following.

Bruce followed anyway. By the time Bruce caught up with him, Tony was already staring at a display model behind plexiglass, showing the inner workings of a mechanized arm. “Bruce, look at this! They’re using that specialized weight-distribution joint that I designed last year, but they’ve reworked the power core. This is _gorgeous_ , I can’t even–”

The guy behind the counter turned toward them with a professionally bright smile. “Good afternoon, sir, can I he– _Tony_?”

Tony looked up from the arm and his eyes suddenly went round. “Oh my god,” he breathed. “Bucky?”

Bruce blinked. That was a name he hadn’t expected to hear, here, though he heard it often enough when Tony was drinking or sleep-deprived enough to start rambling about “the one who got away.”

***

_**Then** _

“I’m gonna do it at lunch, Steve.”

“Good for you, Buck. Do what, exactly?” Steve didn’t even look up from where he was copying Bucky’s CompSci homework.

“Have you even been listening? I’m gonna ask Tony to prom.”

Steve frowned, compared what he’d just written to Bucky’s notes, then grunted irritably and started erasing the line he’d miscopied. “Isn’t he dating that asshat Stone?”

“You really haven’t been listening, have you?” Bucky demanded. He waved a hand under Steve’s face and waited until his best friend finally looked up at him. “They broke up last night. It’s all over school.”

“What’s that, the fifth time this semester?” Steve mused. “You know they never stay broken up long.”

“That’s why I’ve gotta ask him at lunch!” Bucky said. He felt giddy with excitement. He’d been nursing this damn crush for Tony since the eighth grade; it was damn well time to do something about it. “They don’t have any morning classes together; they won’t have had time to get back together! If I can get him to say yes now, then he won’t be _able_ to go back to that jackass.”

“I don’t think it works quite that way,” Steve said.

“Maybe not, but I have to try,” Bucky said. “We’re gonna graduate in two months, and I’ll never see him again.”

Steve looked thoughtful. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay. You’re right. Do it. I’ll keep an eye out for Stone’s cronies.”

***

_**Now** _

Jesus, Tony looked even better now than when they’d been in school together. In high school, Tony had been a quiet, nerdy kid, kind of scrawny, always so desperate to please everyone that he never quite fit in anywhere. But he’d filled out in the years since, still lean but now sporting wiry muscle, and the sparse and scruffy facial hair he’d once had had filled in and been immaculately trimmed into something that made his face sharper and more striking.

And it wasn’t like Bucky hadn’t known that Tony had turned out to be moderately successful – it was no accident that the new prosthetic design had incorporated some of Tony’s developments in robotics – but there was a world of difference between looking at the carefully-curated photos in the industry journals and seeing the man standing not three feet away, just as surprised as Bucky and visibly steeling himself

“I never thought I’d see you again,” Bucky heard himself say through the shock.

“Oh, I’m like a bad penny,” Tony joked lamely, then looked down at the arm on display. “They give you a patter for this thing? Or better yet, a datasheet? I’d love to pick the design team’s brains.”

“You’re lookin’ at ‘im,” Bucky said.

Tony glanced up at him again, eyebrows lifted in surprise. Bucky pushed aside the pity party that had been building and found his show grin again, because there was no way he was going to let a five-year-old heartache stop him from taking credit for the work he was so proud of. Laying groundwork for a strategic partnership with Stark Industries would be good for Bucky’s career. The damage to his heart was already done; he might as well get _something_ out of it.

He thumbed the security lock on the display case and lifted out the arm so they could take a closer look. “So, what d’you want to know?”

***

_**Then** _

The Starks lived in a big, fancy house, damn near a mansion. Bucky couldn’t believe someone who lived in a place like this had said yes to someone like _him_. He chewed on his lip and stared up at the house for a good five minutes before he finally made himself get out of the car. He brushed the wrinkles out of his rented tux and reminded himself not to crush the little plastic box that held Tony’s boutonniere. Every step he took up the path that led across that immaculate lawn seemed to make his heart beat a little harder.

He had to take another few breaths before he rang the doorbell. He had to calm down a little; if Tony’s parents were anything like Bucky’s, he was going to have to make small talk for a while and let them take about half a million pictures before they were finally able to make their escape.

He wondered what kind of curfew Tony’s parents were setting. Bucky usually had to be home by midnight on the weekends, but his mom had told him not to worry about it tonight – just to be home by breakfast, and to text whenever he was going somewhere new.

He rang the doorbell, and then waited. And waited. He was wondering if he should ring again when the door opened to frame a thin older woman: Tony’s mom. “Hello?” She looked down at his tux, the boutonniere box in his hand, then up at his face again, apparently confused.

Had Tony not _told_ his parents he was going to prom? Or had he not told them that he was going with another guy? Shit shit shit… “I’m, I’m here to pick Tony up,” Bucky managed to say.

The woman looked him down and then up again. “Tony left half an hour ago,” she said.

That… didn’t make any sense.

“But I told him…” Bucky started, and then stopped himself. Mrs. Stark wouldn’t have any answers for him.

She gave him an apologetic smile. “Maybe he misunderstood,” she offered, “and is planning to meet you there?”

How could “I’ll pick you up at seven” be misunderstood?

Obviously, there was _some_ sort of misunderstanding going on. Bucky gave Mrs. Stark a small, tight smile. “Maybe. I’ll… I left my phone in the car; I’ll text him. Thank you.”

His heart was beating faster, now, with something closer to panic than excitement. What had happened? He all but ran back to the car and fumbled for his phone.

_Message Not Delivered_.

What? He poked the Retry button.

_Message Not Delivered_.

What the hell? A sick twist in his stomach, Bucky started the car and headed for the prom, alone.

***

_**Now** _

The more Bucky explained the design decisions and concepts, the more Tony hated himself for having let Bucky get away, five years ago. Tony had known even then that Bucky was smart as hell, but this exceeded even Tony’s expectations. He was still hot, too, of course. The intimidating breadth of muscle Bucky had maintained as a member of the football team had melted some without constant upkeep, but it had left behind just the faintest hint of roundness that Tony found desperately appealing

And the way his eyes sparkled and snapped as he pointed out some of the more subtle features – Tony probably could’ve fallen for a reasonably well-dressed monkey if it had that level of passion and fire.

Bruce kept giving Tony that Look every time Tony turned his way, too. Tony steadfastly ignored it. He’d lost that chance, thrown it away with both hands. He was lucky Bucky was even willing to speak to him. Probably wouldn’t, if it wasn’t a tradeshow and Bucky’s actual job to do so.

Eventually, though, Tony ran out of things to ask. He was going to have to walk away, knowing exactly what he’d thrown away… Of all the horrible things Ty had done to Tony, this was probably the worst, in the long run.

Bruce glared at Tony as he stepped back, and caught his arm. “I wouldn’t mind having a quiet dinner back at the hotel if you guys wanted to meet up after the floor closes tonight and reminisce.”

Tony couldn’t help the flinch, or miss the way Bucky’s professional smile went brittle and cold. “There’s not that much to remember,” Bucky told Bruce. “We can pretty well sum it up with, ‘Hey, remember that time you stood me up for the prom?’” He made a noise that approximated a laugh and pointedly did not look at Tony.

***

_**Then** _

“Oh, goodness, Anthony,” Tony’s mom said, looking out the window. “Your date really went all out, didn’t he?”

“What?” It was only six-thirty; Bucky wasn’t supposed to pick him up until seven. Tony ran up beside her and looked.

Sure enough, there was a limo parking at the curb. “Crap,” Tony gasped. He ran his hands through his hair – he hadn’t had time to do it properly yet, but he didn’t _dare_ let Bucky come inside to be grilled by his mom, or worse, his dad. “Okay, I’m going!” he said brightly, dashing for the stairs before she could grab him. “Don’t wait up!”

“Anthony!” she protested, but he pretended not to hear her, jogging down the stairs and practically diving through the door. He slowed to a brisk walk as he crossed the lawn, his heart hammering with excitement.

The car’s driver was waiting to open the door as Tony approached, and Tony flashed him a huge grin as he ducked into the vehicle.

“Wow, Buck, this is–”

That wasn’t Bucky, lounging in the plush seat.

“Ty,” Tony snapped. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, darling,” Ty sighed. “You didn’t really think that _Bucky Barnes_ was actually going to take you to prom, did you? I know you’re given to flights of fancy, but that’s a bit farfetched, even for you, don’t you think?”

“Wait, hang on,” Tony told the driver before he could shut the door. “I’m getting out.” Tony glared at Ty. “We’ve been planning it for weeks, so yes, I think that Bucky Barnes is going to take me to prom.”

“Oh, darling,” Ty said again, shaking his head. “It was a prank. A setup. He was never going to show up.”

Tony tried to ignore the way that echoed his own late-night fears. “God, you are such an asshole.”

“It’s true,” Ty insisted. “I heard him planning it with Rogers in the locker room.”

“Rogers would never. He’s such a goody two-shoes,” Tony protested.

“That’s what he wants everyone to think, but you should’ve seen what he did to Rumlow after the Homecoming game,” Ty said with a sympathetic wince.

No one had ever confirmed what had happened to put Rumlow in the hospital for two weeks after Homecoming, though rumors had flown fast and thick. Rumlow himself wouldn’t talk about it. “Rogers did that?”

Ty nodded. “I helped pull him off, or Brock probably would’ve died. Coach swore everyone to secrecy.” Ty grimaced in distaste. “He’s vicious, when he wants to be.”

“I’d still rather go stag than go with you,” Tony said.

Ty smiled, that bright, slick smile that he saved for when he knew he was going to get exactly what he wanted. “And walk the gauntlet of the entire school as they laugh at you for showing up without the ‘date’ everyone’s heard about? Come on, Tony, you know better than that.”

Tony closed his eyes, unwilling to let Ty see how much he was hurting. God, he’d thought Bucky had actually _liked_ him. What an idiot. He should’ve known he couldn’t be that lucky.

“Of course you do, you’re too smart to let a thing like that happen. Luckily, I overheard them and decided to come to your rescue. For old time’s sake.”

Tony drew a breath and held it for a count of ten, until he was sure he wouldn’t let a single tear slip free, and then slid silently onto the limo’s bench seat.

“That’s a good boy,” Ty purred. The driver shut the door, finally, a heavy slam that felt like the vault door on Tony’s heart. “Come on over here. Delete that asshole from your phone and have a drink or two,” Ty suggested, and the cabin filled with the smell of rum. “Once you’ve loosened up a little, you might even have some fun. And I’m sure I can think of a couple of ways for you to show your gratitude, later.”

***

_**Now** _

“It was Ty,” Tony said softly, not looking at Bucky.

The old rage and hurt blossomed to life again behind Bucky’s sternum. “I know it was Ty,” he growled. “Steve told me you two showed up, already half-lit–”

“Ty told me,” Tony said, a little louder now, riding over Bucky. “He told me that you were never going to show. That it was you and Rogers playing a, a fucking _prank_ to humiliate me.”

Bucky opened his mouth, closed it again. “Why the hell would we do that?” was all he could think to say.

“To punish me for trying to get above myself?” Tony grated. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Rogers cornered me on Monday and damn well put me in my place. He told me that you–”

“I went to pick you up,” Bucky said, the flame of anger snuffing and leaving behind only the hurt. “And you were gone, so I went to the prom and I saw… I saw you dancing with him. And I left.”

Tony had wrapped his arms around his middle and was staring into the distance, off to the side. “Well, those weren’t the words he used, but I… figured out that Ty had lied. To prove that he could still make me dance to his tune. To get revenge on me for breaking up with him, I guess. For… for daring to be happy.”

Bucky didn’t know how to respond to that. He should have known that was Ty’s fault, shouldn’t he? He should’ve marched into the damn dance and told Ty to take his disgusting, lying hands off Bucky’s date. He should’ve… at least _asked_. Everyone had known how Ty treated Tony. But Bucky had been so hurt he couldn’t think straight.

Bucky cast about for something to say, _anything_. Tony’s friend caught Bucky’s eye and raised an eyebrow, nodding toward Tony significantly.

Bucky opened his mouth, closed it again. He knew he _should_ say something, but what? He could practically _see_ Tony shrinking back into a timid, shy kid with no self-esteem.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Tony said. “For whatever that’s worth. I never… I’m sorry.” He took a step back. Another, slowly, as if he were hoping to be stopped, but Bucky still had no words. Tony turned.

“Were you really happy?” Bucky blurted.

Tony’s head lifted, though he didn’t look back. “What?”

“When… Before Ty fucked everything up. Were you really happy that I’d asked you?”

Tony laughed, just a little, or maybe it was a choked-back sob. “I don’t think I’d ever been happier before in my life.”

Bucky bit his lip, glanced at Tony’s friend. The curly head bobbed in fervent approval.

“Have dinner with me?”

Tony looked at Bucky finally, hope and fear twisting his mouth. “Really?”

Bucky nodded. “Seems I owe you a date.”

“You don’t–” Tony’s friend elbowed him, not being at all subtle. Tony glared back, but took a breath and turned back to Bucky. “Okay, yeah. Yes. Dinner.” Tony glanced down at the schedule. “Pick me up at eight?”

“I’ll be there,” Bucky said. He grinned a little, to take the sting out of it, and said, “Wait for me this time.”

“I’ve been waiting for five years,” Tony said. “What’s another couple of hours?”

  
  


 


	3. 23-Jan-2017: Tony Downloaded to Bucky's Arm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompt:** When something goes wrong with 616-style Extremis, Tony's body fails, but his mind still exists in digital form. He needs to be downloaded somewhere or he'll die, and Bucky's brain has the resiliency and storage space, plus the necessary cybernetics because of his arm. Bodysharing! --Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None, except for this being **utter crack**.

Thank God for Extremis, because without it, Tony would be stuck inhabiting his meat body, which was currently locked in a cryotube with an estimated lifespan of about two hours once they thawed him out.

The aliens who’d showed up last week were actually friendly, for a change, but it turned out that their version of the common cold was deadly when transmitted to humans. Honestly, it was lucky that Tony and Steve had gone up to the Lunar Preorbital Platform for a preliminary meet-and-greet and thus been the only ones infected.

Steve had gotten sicker than he’d been since 1934, but his serum was healing him faster than the space flu could ravage his body, and from what they could tell, he was actually beginning to develop antibodies for the virus.

Once Steve had actually beaten it, Bruce thought he’d be able to develop a vaccine, and in the meantime he was working on a way to cure Tony without taking him out of cryosuspension first.

But while Tony trusted Bruce with his life, no question, he just hadn’t been able to face the idea of being entirely unconscious for the duration. He’d had Extremis download his brain, hoping to load it into one of the armors. But even though Tony had spent a decade producing some of the most gloriously advanced and beautiful full-body prostheses ever created by man, it turned out that he couldn’t _inhabit_ them, because they lacked a biological component for Extremis to interface with.

So now he was stuck in his boyfriend’s arm.

It _sucked_.

Tony could only see and hear through a weak wireless connection to whatever cameras and mics were in the immediate vicinity, and his options for speaking were limited to having JARVIS relay messages or getting Bucky to sit near a keyboard – at an angle that let a nearby camera see it – and pick words out one-handed. Which meant that if Bucky left the Tower, Tony was fucked, so they were staying in the Tower as much as possible and getting bored as hell.

“Stop hitting yourself” was only funny about the first twenty times or so, and then Bucky threatened to put the arm in a maglock restraint so Tony couldn’t use it at all.

It _never_ stopped being hilarious to make Bucky’s arm move like he was working a sock puppet (sans sock) whenever JARVIS was relaying one of Tony’s messages – it made Bucky look like a demented ventriloquist – but it was best the first time someone saw it, because they looked so startled before they cracked up, so that was starting to lose its entertainment value, too.

It sucked for Bucky, too, because he’d given over the use of his arm to Tony, so he couldn’t spar or exercise (apart from running, which required leaving the Tower, so he didn’t do it much) or even shoot at the target range. (They tried working in tandem for that, once. Tony had figured all he had to do was hold the arm still, but it turned out that precision shooting really did need minute adjustments from both arms, and it was all but impossible for Tony to figure out what Bucky needed him to do while watching from a camera twenty feet away.)

Clint walked into the room once while Bucky was taking a nap on the couch and caught Tony brushing the hair from Bucky’s face. Clint had nearly burst something trying to keep from laughing aloud at the sight of Bucky apparently petting his own hair in his sleep. Tony’d had a short conversation with him after he’d recovered, but it hadn’t lasted long, because one-handed sign language was a pain in the ass, and also Clint had been weirded out by the whole “possessed arm” thing. (Seriously, how was that weirder than the aliens in orbit who were frantically Skyping with Bruce about a cure for their common cold?)

They tried watching a movie, but Tony couldn’t properly talk back to the screen or complain about the science, and without a proper body, he couldn’t munch popcorn or drink a beer or try to distract Bucky into making out with him instead of watching the movie.

Wait. Hold the phone. Back up.

Tony dragged the hand up Bucky’s thigh to cup his crotch.

“Tony, what the hell?” Bucky hissed, looking around frantically, though Tony had made sure they were alone already. Bucky grabbed the metal arm’s wrist and dragged it away from his dick.

Tony rolled his (metaphorical) eyes and reached for the tablet he’d started carrying around. _We could always go back to bed to kill some time_ , he suggested. Too bad the tablet couldn’t wiggle eyebrows at Bucky suggestively.

“I’m not gonna go jerk off in the middle of the afternoon,” Bucky growled under his breath.

_Is it really jerking off if I’m the one controlling the hand?_

“It’s not like I’d be able to return the favor,” Bucky argued, though Tony could practically _feel_ him starting to cave.

Like watching his gorgeous boyfriend coming undone wasn’t pleasure enough. _I don’t have any balls to turn blue anyway_ , Tony typed. _Actually, since I don’t have a body that can get tired, we could kill a_ **lot** _of time._

Bucky hesitated.

_How many times do you think you can go at once?_ Tony asked.

Bucky snatched the tablet off his lap and out of Tony’s reach and stood up. “I don’t know. Let’s go find out.”

 

 


	4. 26-Jan-2017: Trolling, Not Cheating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompt:** Could you write a fic where Tony and Bucky have been through so much in getting and staying together (maybe after CW?) that they just know they're each other's one and only and forever after. So when everyone (Avengers/civilians/media) doubts them and ridicules their relationship or when 'incriminating' photos or other proof of cheating or betrayal is brought up by well-meaning friends or malicious a-holes to break them up, they shrug and say 'I trust him, he would never-', pretty please? --Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** Perceived (not actual) cheating

Sam poured himself a glass of juice and took it into the wide common area. He really had to stop letting Steve goad him into doing shit that was about four levels over his actual capabilities. All he wanted now was to flop on the big couch and whine about how much his calves hurt.

Barnes was already there, watching some celebrity gossip show, of all things. Sam blinked in confusion, then remembered that Stark had gone off to Tokyo on a business trip yesterday, and Barnes hadn’t been able to go along, because his legal status in Tokyo was still in question. Bucky-boo was probably hoping for a clip about his guy.

The show didn’t disappoint – not long after Sam collapsed onto the couch with a grunt of greeting, it flipped to a segment on Tony’s arrival in Tokyo. The host chattered inanely over a video montage. There was Stark being greeted as he got off the plane, signing autographs in the airport, a cute shot of him posing with a kid in an Iron Man costume.

Barnes sighed soulfully and Sam glanced back at the TV to see Stark walking along a red carpet toward some event, looking even sharper than usual. Next to Stark was a Japanese business mogul at his side with a pretty girl on his arm. Damn, why did rich old guys get all the pretty ones? Barnes, of course, only had eyes for Stark.

“You know if you told him how much you liked it, he’d probably wear the tux for you at home,” Sam pointed out.

“It’s special ‘cause I don’t get to see it much,” Barnes said, which was a fair point.

Sam wished the show host would shut up; her voice was grating. Oh, the pretty girl was the business guy’s daughter. That was a bit easier to swallow. Sam wondered if Stark was going into business with the guy, whether he could hook Sam up with an introduction. Sam closed his eyes and stretched his aching calves again and visualized Rogers running into a brick wall or something else nearly as hard as his head.

He’d probably just go right through it. Parachutes and doors were concepts he was still working on, apparently.

Barnes’ breath hitched and Sam cracked one eye. Then he sat up, fast, because the TV was showing Stark dancing with the daughter. Closely. They were definitely not leaving any room for Jesus in there, holy shit. The girl said something, and Stark threw his head back and laughed.

Barnes made another soft, indeterminate noise. _Shit shit shit_.

“Barnes, hey,” Sam tried. “It’s, I’m sure it’s not anything.” He wasn’t sure of any such thing, actually, but Sam wasn’t gonna be able to restrain the Winter Soldier by himself, so he was stalling. “You okay, man?”

Barnes put his hands over his mouth. “Maybe.” He sounded a little shaken. “It’s just, he’s…”

“Hey, I know, man, it’s not cool. But it doesn’t necessarily _mean_ anything. You know his rep.”

Barnes wasn’t listening. “Those’re the steps we were practicing together, for the charity thing next month,” he murmured.

Sam winced. Jesus, Stark…

Barnes sniffled, and Sam groaned inwardly. How the hell was he the one getting stuck taking care of a heartbroken assassin? “C’mon, don’t jump to conclusions, you’ll work it out,” Sam tried.

But then Barnes dropped his hands, and he was… smiling?

Teary. But smiling.

“The hell,” Sam wondered.

Barnes flashed him a grin. “He’s sayin’ hi,” he told Sam. “Knew I’d be watching, wanted me to know he was thinkin’ of me.”

Sam glanced back at the TV. “Buck, I hate to say it, but are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure,” Bucky said. “You know how much we went through to get where we are? No way is he throwin’ me over for a fling.” The show switched to someone else and Bucky flicked it off, then fished his phone out of a pocket and dialed. “Hey, baby, I’m not interrupting anything, am I? …Nah, I just saw the segment on _Starshine_ and couldn’t resist. That was the sweetest– Oh yeah? Hang on, lemme just go somewhere a little more private.” Barnes winked at Sam and strode for the elevator, still talking.

***

“Mornin’, gorgeous,” said Tony. Bucky looked up from his tablet and tipped his head back so that Tony could lean in for a kiss on the way to the coffee. “Good run?”

Bucky snorted and went back to scrolling through the news. “No such thing,” he said, like he always did. “I only go ‘cause it’s marginally less awful than enduring Steve’s sad puppy face.”

Tony grinned as he sat down and stole the toast from Bucky’s plate, just like he did every morning. Bucky only bothered with a token defense and protest. (Bucky actually made the toast, took one bite out of it, and then left the rest for Tony every morning just so Tony would eat _something_. Tony probably knew that, but as long as they didn’t mention it, then it still worked.) “I’d think you’d be immune to Steve’s face by now.”

“There is no immunity to that,” Bucky said reasonably. “Anyway, it never gets old watching him challenge Sam to contests that Sam knows _damn well_ he can’t win.”

Tony snickered and brushed crumbs off his fingers. “What was it this time?”

“Hurdles,” Bucky said. He scrolled a little further, to reveal a lurid headline. “Oh, look, you’re cheating on me again.”

“What?” Tony leaned into Bucky’s side, reading. “Oh dear, I’ve been found out.”

“Indeed you have, you hussy.” Bucky delivered it deadpan and off-rhythm, like a second-grader delivering memorized lines in a school play.

“But my love for– Wait, who is it? I forgot to check.” Tony scrolled down to check the article. “Oh, right. My love for Natasha cannot be denied. An ocean to our pond.”

“Don’t worry,” Natasha told Bucky with a smirk as she came into the kitchen. “You can have him back now; I was only in it for the money.”

Bucky felt the smile tugging at his lips. “You betrayer,” he told Natasha.

“That’s _Sultan Vile Betrayer_ to you,” Natasha said. “Any coffee left?”

***

“Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark!”

Tony glanced up and rolled his eyes. Honestly, _reporters_. It was eight in the morning and the Avengers had just come off a six-hour-long battle with a pod of honest-to-god giant squids off the coast. They were all exhausted, bruised and bloody, and covered in slime, seaweed, and other things better not considered too closely. _God forbid_ they be allowed to go back to the Tower and take showers before having to put on their public relations hats.

Still, maintaining the goodwill of the press was part of the job, so Tony plastered on his public face and directed a well-practiced smirk into the camera behind the woman’s shoulder. “Yes, hi, hello. There’ll be the usual post-incident news conference at the Tower; you’ll want to contact our PR office for–”

“Yes sir, Mr. Stark, and our usual correspondent is already on it, but in the meantime, since you were so valiantly defending us when the morning editions rolled out, I wanted to get your reaction to this.” She held up a newspaper – Jesus, they still _made_ those? – with a photo covering most of the top half.

Tony stared at the photo for several long seconds, then swiveled his head to look over at his boyfriend. “Tell me this is doctored,” he demanded.

Bucky glanced at the paper, then looked away guiltily. “Baby–”

“Don’t you ‘baby’ me!” Tony snapped. “How could you?”

“Come on, Tony, it’s not that big a deal,” Bucky pleaded.

“Not that big a deal? Dammit, you promised _I_ could be the one to let the paps catch me kissing Clint!”

Bucky sighed and put his hands on Tony’s shoulders, pulling him away from the reporter. He glared at the camera and said quietly, “Look, the opportunity was there, and I jumped. I’m sorry. What if I let you be the one to imply it’s a three-way, instead?”

Tony pouted at him. “Can I do it in today’s press conference?”

Bucky’s shoulders slumped. “I guess, since I _did_ jump the gun on you already. Just make sure you let Clint know we’re upping the timetable.”

Tony beamed. This was going to be _epic_. “You’re the best.”

“When d’you reckon they’ll stop trying to make us have jealous fits and break up?”

“It’s the press,” Tony said. “So approximately never. But most of the semi-respectable gossip rags are starting to figure out that we’re trolling them, so pretty soon we’ll be down to just the bottom feeders, and those are really just funny. I’m holding out for one of having a secret affair with [Bat Boy](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bat_Boy_\(character\)).”

“God, I love you.”

“I know.” Tony leaned in for a kiss, heedless of the slime.

  
  


 


	5. 21-Feb-2017: Post-CW Soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** G
> 
>  **Prompt:** Imagine post CW soulmate AU where you realize someone is your soulmate after you touch them. After CW Tony has to make up with the rogue avengers and they meet first time in public and Tony and Bucky manifest their soulbond on national TV and infront everybody. -Anonymous
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

“…in the spirit of these new and more humanitarian Accords…”

Jesus, if this politician doesn’t shut the hell up, Tony’s going to fall asleep here and miss his cue and cause  _another_  international incident. On live TV. And if Tony’s getting antsy, the gods only know how restless Team Cap must be, on their side of the curtained-off stage.

“…to witness the signing and welcome home their newly-reinstated members, are the Avengers: Mr. Tony Stark, Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes, and the Vision.”

 _Finally_. Tony pushes through the curtain, leading Rhodey and Vizh onto the stage. He lifts a hand and turns toward the minor explosion of camera flashes from the press, giving them a practiced, dignified smile.

Of course, then he has to stand there in front of the gathered press and pretend not to be bored out of his mind while the politician drones on some  _more_  about all the service done by the no-longer-exiled Team Cap.

But finally it’s done, and the curtain opposite Tony parts, and–

There they are.

Steve is in the front, of course. His skin looks tanner, his hair a shade blonder than Tony remembers it – the Wakandan sun must have been good for him. He’s wearing a somber but well-fitted double-breasted suit. He meets Tony’s eyes and nods, ever so slightly, then approaches the table to the side of the podium.

The real signing of the Accords happened a week ago, of course. It was a requirement for even allowing them back into the country. This is a farce, a show for the masses. But Tony can’t complain about that, can he? A show for the masses is what they  _need_  right now, to get the masses back on their side. Anyway, Tony’s been a showman since he was six.

Steve signs the fake Accords with what looks like a John Hancock-sized flourish, then squares his shoulders and crosses the stage to shake Tony’s hand. “Tony,” Steve said in his deep, carrying voice. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, to bring us here.”

Carefully chosen words, of course, and Tony knows he means not only bringing them home from exile, but to bring the Accords into alignment with the needs of the few in addition to the needs of the many. Tony nods his understanding, and recites his brief, prepared speech welcoming Steve back to their native soil.

They hold their grip a few extra seconds, posing for the press. Then Steve steps past Tony to greet Rhodey, and Tony lets out a careful breath of relief and tension.

Wilson comes out next, and he’s easier. Tony didn’t know him quite as well. Of course, Wilson’s eyes aren’t even on Tony as they shake; he’s watching Rhodey with something like apprehension. Tony could tell him that’s dumb – it was Vision’s misfire that knocked Rhodey out of the sky in the first place; Rhodey’d forgiven Wilson’s part in it even before Tony had finished the first iteration of the prosthetics.

Then the shrinky-growy guy – Lang? – who wasn’t a member of the Avengers before, but Tony had been quietly impressed with the way he’d infiltrated the suit and managed to cause so much havoc in such a short time. Welcoming him aboard is a relief, much less fraught with half-healed wounds and barely-banked anger and betrayal.

Then Clint, and in some ways, that’s even harder than Steve. But whatever remains between the two of them to hash out, neither of them are going to do it here, in public, on live TV. They shake hands for the press, and if Clint’s focus is on Tony’s eyebrows and not his eyes, well, the cameras probably won’t pick that up.

Wanda’s not an American, so she’s not part of this PR gig, though she’ll be in the big “reunited happy family” photo that will get taken later. Which means the last one through the curtain is…  _crap_. Barnes himself.

Tony steels himself as he watches Barnes carefully sign the fake Accords. It’s not that he still blames the guy for his parents. Tony’s had enough time to think that through and come to terms with it, that it really wasn’t Barnes at all. It’s just that something about Barnes makes Tony nervous. He’s not sure what it is; he’s never been able to quantify it.

 _Pull yourself together,_  he chides himself. All he has to do is shake the man’s hand and then go pose for some more pictures, and it’ll all be over.

Barnes meets his gaze as he approaches, and something about the wry twist of his mouth tells Tony he knows exactly how Tony feels.

Tony has a special speech for Barnes, too, to officially welcome the good sergeant back to the States as a recovered POW. It was written by his PR team and is a particularly eloquent little bit of theater. And the instant his hand touches Barnes’, every word of it flies straight out of Tony’s head. “What the–” he gasps instead as a jolt of something like lightning zings up his arm and then to every single cell of Tony’s body.

For one wild fraction of a second, he wonders if this is some elaborate trick or scheme, that he’s being assassinated right here on live TV.

And then the truth slams home and it’s even worse than that. He wrenches his hand out of Barnes’ grasp and looks at it – on live TV, shit, they’ll never be able to cover this up – and his skin is deep mahogany everywhere Barnes’ skin had touched it, fast darkening into true soulmark black.

He looks up to see Barnes staring at his own mottling hand with a naked dismay that nearly matches Tony’s own. Barnes’ eyes flick up to meet Tony’s, round in shock, and he says the words that are circling Tony’s brain on a stunned loop. “Oh,  _shit_.”

 

 


	6. 25-Feb-2017: Love Spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:** Hi! I absolutely adore this tumblr and I was wondering if you could do a fic where Bucky dislikes Tony until Bucky is hit by a love spell, becoming madly infatuated. He realises during this time how sweet and caring Tony actually is, not taking any advantage at all, and nobody notices (including Bucky) as the effects of the spell gradually wear off and he still acts madly in love. -Anonymous
> 
>  **Warnings:** per the prompt, there's a spell that gives Bucky feelings for Tony that he didn't consent to. No physical non/dub-con occurs.

Bucky sagged in Steve’s grip, whimpering.

“Buck?”

Bucky allowed himself one last whine, but shook his head. “Just… gimme a sec,” he mumbled. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes off the door through which Tony had disappeared, hoping Tony would come back, even though he  _knew_ the compulsion wasn’t natural. To hell with Amora, anyway.

Tony’s voice echoed in the hall and Bucky broke Steve’s grip and lunged for the door. “Tony!”

Tony was talking with Bruce and Thor. All three of them broke off in surprise as Bucky burst through the door, panting with desperation, but Bucky only had eyes for Tony. “Don’t leave me,” he gasped. Dimly, he was aware that he wasn’t actually in love with Tony. Vaguely, he knew that he should be embarrassed for this display. But the magic was so fresh it still prickled his skin, and watching Tony walk away had felt like suffocation, like being shut into the cryochamber, like the white-hot agony of electricity against his skull. “Please,” he begged.

“Dammit, Buck!” Steve’s hand closed on Bucky’s shoulder. “Come on, don’t–”

“It’s okay,” Tony said. He kept his eyes on Bucky’s and approached slowly, like Bucky was some kind of feral creature. “Separation obviously isn’t going to work. He can just… keep me company, while we’re sorting this out.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Tony,” Steve said.

Tony’s gaze flickered past Bucky to Steve, and then back. “I’m not going to take advantage, Rogers, relax.”

Bucky swayed toward Tony.  _Please take advantage_ , he almost said, but the spell made him infatuated, not stupid. Keeping his mouth shut right now was the surest path to getting what he wanted ( _didn’t really want_ ) – needed.

Steve shifted uneasily. “It’s not that,” he protested, a little lamely. “It’s… this is strong stuff, Tony, and Bucky’s a lot stronger than you. If he– I mean…”

Bucky stiffened in outrage, but Tony beat him to it. “Bucky’s not going to hurt me,” Tony snapped. “Unless you’re saying that’s his usual approach to courting, but I can’t imagine–”

“No, of course not! Jesus.” Steve held up his hands defensively. “I just think–”

Bucky didn’t pay a lot of attention to the rest of the argument, because Tony had defended him. Tony had defended him. Tony wasn’t going to send Bucky away. Relief and a rush of excitement roared in his ears and drowned out everything else.

***

 _God_ , Tony was amazing. Bucky had kind of known that even before the spell. Coming to the workshop for maintenance had been something to look forward to rather than dread, if only because Tony would distract him by telling him about all the gadgets and tech on display.

But now,  _now_ … Tony was like a shining star, the sun around which everything in the workshop orbited – Bucky included. Bucky watched Tony work with a sense of awe and gratitude that he’d been privileged to know this brilliant, beautiful man.

Tony stopped working to stretch, and Bucky bit his lip to keep from moaning with how much he wanted to touch, to–

“You okay there, Buckaroo?”

Bucky’s eyes opened – when had he closed them? – to find Tony looking at him with concern. Tony was so  _nice_. “I’m okay,” Bucky said agreeably. “Be even better if you’d let me kiss you.”

“We’ve been through that at least twice a day for the last two weeks,” Tony said, but he sounded amused, not angry. “You know why I can’t let you do that.”

Bucky heaved a sigh. “I know,” he grumbled, petulant. Tony’s commitment to avoiding concerns of consent was sweet.  _Totally_ unnecessary, in Bucky’s opinion, but still kinda touching. He watched Tony chug a bottle of water, the smooth bob of Tony’s adam’s apple, the way Tony’s lips touched the lip of the bottle… Bucky swallowed and made himself look away. “If it wasn’t for the magic, you’d let me, right?”

Tony considered him. “Tell you what – ask me again when it’s gone, if you still want to.”

***

Bucky was playing checkers with Steve, Tony flopped on the couch nearby as he worked on a tablet. “Oh, hey, email from Jane,” Tony said.

“What’s she say?” Steve asked.

Tony waved the tablet. “Yep. Thor’s back in town; he’s going to spend the night with her, but he’ll come to New York tomorrow. There’s a good chance he’ll know how to undo Amora’s spell.”

“Great!” Steve said, smiling happily.

Bucky bit back his own first reaction, which was a lot closer to disappointed than happy, and maybe a little resentful at how delighted Steve sounded. It wasn’t like being in love with Tony was an awful fate or anything.

Bucky  _knew_  he was under a spell, but it was a little bit ridiculous that the others on the team didn’t realize just how great a guy Tony was. Sure, the physical attraction was probably ramped up a bit by the spell, but you didn’t have to be in love with someone to appreciate their kindness, their dedication, their generosity.

But whenever he tried to talk to someone about it, the response was always some variation on, “Sure, Tony’s a great guy, but I think that love spell has thrown your perspective off-center a bit.” So he gave up trying to convince the others of Tony’s greatness. He didn’t want to have to compete with them for Tony’s affections, anyway.

At least the raw ache of the spell’s compulsion to be near Tony at all times had eased a little bit, these last couple of weeks. Even under the aegis of the spell, Bucky had known that it was ridiculous to have a panic attack every time Tony went somewhere without him (like to the bathroom – the first few days had been  _terribly_  awkward). It was a relief that the spell had given him a little extra slack, there. But Bucky still lit up like a livewire whenever Tony walked back into the room, thought about Tony constantly.

And despite it having been a whole month, Tony was still perfectly obliging.  _God_ , Bucky loved Tony. He wasn’t sure he wanted the spell to be lifted, really, if it meant he was going to stop appreciating how wonderful Tony was.

***

Steve found him sitting in his room, arms wrapped around his knees. “Buck, hey, don’t you want to come say hi to Thor?”

Bucky managed not to flinch. “You go on,” he said. “I’ll catch up later.”

Steve was not fooled. “Come on. It’s just the spell trying to protect itself, you know that, right?”

Bucky groaned and dropped his head onto his knee. “It still  _feels_  like me,” he complained. As soon as the spell was gone, Bucky no longer had an excuse to follow Tony around. And sure, it was possible that with the spell gone, he wouldn’t  _want_  to, but right now…

“I bid you good day!” Thor boomed, suddenly in the doorway.

Bucky glared at Steve, who looked apologetic, but not regretful. “It’s for your own good, Buck,” Steve said. “You’ve been mooning around for a  _month_ , now. It’s time to get you straightened out.”

“A month, you say?” Thor said, suddenly frowning. “‘Tis unlike one of Amora’s spells to last beyond a fortnight.”

“Well, this one has,” Steve said.

“Hmm.” Thor produced a pair of what looked like old-fashioned spectacles and put them on. It should have looked slightly ridiculous, but instead just made Thor look terribly grave and wise. He looked at Bucky, long and expressionless, and then pulled the glasses from his face with a faint smile. “No hint of magic remains on you,” he said. “Not even lingering wisps and traces. I would guess the spell dissipated of its own accord some time past.”

“That can’t be right,” said Steve.

Thor hadn’t lifted his gaze from Bucky, though, and Bucky was suddenly filled with a swell of hope. “It’s real?”

“Indeed, my friend,” Thor agreed. “Your actions and thoughts have been entirely your own for the last tenday or more.”

“But that means–” Bucky threw himself off the bed and bolted for the stairs. “I gotta find Tony, now!”

Steve’s and Thor’s voices fell behind him, but they didn’t matter. All Bucky needed was– “Tony!” he gasped, flinging himself into the workshop.

Tony looked up in surprise. “Bucky? I thought Thor was getting you all straightened out.”

“The spell’s gone,” Bucky said.

Something flickered in Tony’s eyes, but before Bucky could identify it, he turned back to his screen. “Already? That was fast. Well, I’m sure–”

“It’s been gone for more than a week,” Bucky interrupted.

Tony froze, shoulders half-hunched. “What?”

Bucky paced closer and finally let himself touch. He put his hand on Tony’s shoulder and gently turned the chair around again. “It’s been nothing but me,” he said carefully. “It’s not a spell, Tony. It’s just me. And you.” He searched Tony’s face, and thought, maybe, there was a spark of hope in those dark eyes that matched his own.

“So… Can I kiss you now?”

It was a kiss worth the wait.

  
  


 


	7. 25-Mar-2017: Siren Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompt:** Since I read Siren's Treasure I wonder what would have happend if Tony got angry and hurt that Bucky actually made him fall in love instead of being cool with it? It can be in another universe if you want. (Yes, I'm a sucker for angst and misunderstandings) thanks! -dramaqueenofhell
> 
> **Warnings:** The relationship as it exists at the beginning of the story was dubiously consensual because of Bucky's siren abilities.

“Tony, please, just listen–”

“Oh, I think I’ve  _listened_  enough, wouldn’t you say?” Tony snapped.

“But I wasn’t… It’s not, I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” Bucky protested. “I can’t control it – haven’t been able to since the serum. I wasn’t doing it on purpose!”

“You think that matters?” Tony yelled. He slammed his fists on the table. “Whether it was your intent or not, you took away my  _choice_. I thought I  _loved_  you, but it was just some lizard-brain reaction to subaudible soundwaves! How could you even–” Tony shook his head and turned away. “No. I can’t even look at you right now. I’m leaving.”

Bucky scrambled to get in front of Tony, dropped to his knees. “Please Tony, baby, tell me what to do. Tell me what I can do to prove that I never meant to hurt you. I love you!”

Tony gritted his teeth. “It’s not  _your_  feelings that are in question, though, is it? I’m going. Don’t call me.” He stepped deliberately around Bucky, and slammed the door on his way out.

It wasn’t until the elevator doors had closed around him like a comforting hug that he allowed himself to lean into the wall and choke out the sob that was lodged in his throat.

***

Tony managed to hide in his workshop for the better part of a week before a call to Assemble forced him out to interact with other people again.

He wasn’t sure what to expect. Would Bucky try to plead his case? Would he enlist the others to do so for him? Would he have given up on Tony and already moved on?

That last thought shouldn’t hurt so much, he told himself, annoyed. Bucky had  _manipulated_  him. Taken away his free will. It didn’t  _matter_  how sweet and caring and attentive Bucky had been as a boyfriend if Tony hadn’t been the one to make that decision for himself.

His worries appeared to be unfounded, however. No one said anything to him about Bucky that didn’t have to do with defeating evil. The closest it got was a brief hesitation before Steve put Tony on civilian roundup and gave sniper-spotting duty to Sam instead. Once they’d started fighting, the comm chatter was startlingly normal – Clint and Sam sassing each other and the oblivious bad guys, Natasha’s usual dorky dad-jokes, Thor’s challenges, and Steve’s ultimately futile requests for professionalism. Tony even relaxed enough after a while to make a couple of wisecracks.

It wasn’t until they were winding down that Tony realized that Bucky hadn’t chimed in at all, not even to report position change or the movements of hostile targets.

***

“If you think making me feel guilty is going to make me  _less_  angry,” Tony snapped, “then you’ve got another think coming.”

Bucky’s eyes widened and he shook his head frantically, but Tony wasn’t buying it. As near as Tony could tell, Bucky hadn’t said a word in more than a month. Not to Tony and not to anyone else, either. He’d muttered in his sleep or woken screaming a few times, but according to JARVIS, Bucky hadn’t otherwise used his voice at all. He used hand-signals in the field, and Clint was teaching him ASL, but mostly he got by with writing notes.

It  _did_  make Tony feel guilty. But that just made him angrier. He was the victim here, damn it! He was the one who’d had his emotions manipulated! He shouldn’t have to be the one to apologize!

Bucky had stopped shaking his head and was now frantically scribbling on the notepad he’d taken to carrying around with him. He held it up with a pleading expression.  _Not trying to make you guilty! You were right, I can’t be trusted._

Tony snorted and raised one sardonic eyebrow.

Bucky bit his lip and scrawled frantically again.  ~~ _I didn’t want_~~ _I didn’t think about whether it would affect you. I really am sorry._

“Bullshit. How could you not think about it?” Tony demanded, frustrated.

Bucky hesitated, watching Tony as if he expected Tony to storm out without waiting for a response, but curiosity had always been Tony’s biggest flaw. If there was an answer to the question, Tony wanted to know about it. After a moment, Bucky took a breath and bent back to his notepad. He wrote more slowly this time, his teeth worrying at his lip as he chose his words.

It made Tony want to kiss him, to tease that lip out from under Bucky’s teeth and suck on it, soothe those swollen red teeth-marks.  _Weeks_  since Tony had found out and banished Bucky back to his old guest room, and Tony  _still_  couldn’t stop wanting him.

Maybe his feelings weren’t  _entirely_  subaudible suggestions. He made himself look away until Bucky held up the notepad again.

_Hydra tried to make me use it for them, early on, but I couldn’t control it, and I kept killing them. So they erased it, along with everything else. Even when my memories started coming back, I thought they’d altered my vocal chords. I didn’t know I_ _**could** _ _Sing anymore. As soon as I figured it out, I told you._

While Tony was considering that, Bucky hesitated, then scrawled another sentence.  _My mask is still in the Vault. I could start wearing it again._

“What?” Tony physically recoiled from the notepad. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

Bucky glanced at him, looked away.  _It’s how they kept me from Singing. Like a muzzle. Makes it harder to talk. And there’s a modulator in it that reduces the range of my Song._

“Jesus.” Tony scrubbed his hands over his face. “Jesus,  _no_. That’s just…  _No_. No one here would agree to let you do that to yourself.”

Bucky’s pen scritched across the page. Tony hesitated for a few slow breaths, but when he looked up, Bucky was gone, his notepad abandoned on the table.  _It would be worth it, if it helped you feel safe with me again._

***

Bucky was the last one out of the quinjet. His eyes widened when he saw Tony waiting for him. He glanced behind himself uncertainly, then looked back at Tony. He pointed at his chest and cocked his head questioningly.

“Yeah, you,” Tony said. “Nice job today; I know you think no one saw you taking out that tower so they couldn’t call for backup, but I see everything. Well, JARVIS sees everything and tells me about it, but that’s close enough.”

Bucky smiled tentatively, and shrugged.

“So, cleanup and then debrief and reports, but I thought, if you’re not too tired after all that, we could go for dinner?”

Bucky looked past Tony toward the door that led into the rest of the Tower, then back at Tony.

“Just us,” Tony clarified. “I… I miss you. And the Song has to have worn off by now, right?” Bucky nodded his head emphatically, eyes wide and hopeful. “I thought we could… try again, see how it goes.”

Bucky’s didn’t carry the notepad with him on missions, but he signed  _thank you_ , then caught Tony’s hand and pressed it to his chest, just over his heart. His grin was blinding in its brilliance.

It felt a little like coming home, and Tony had to resist the urge to pull Bucky closer and kiss him senseless.

***

Tony stood in the Vault, where they kept confiscated tech and items of power, and stared at the Winter Soldier’s mask. He couldn’t believe he was even considering this.

But the last few days had only served to underscore how desperately he had been missing Bucky. He’d missed way Bucky touched him, like something precious and deserving of care. He had missed the way Bucky smelled, the lingering hint of cologne and warm metal and leather.  He’d missed Bucky’s teasing smile, and the way Bucky’s eyes darkened when they lingered on Tony’s lips.

And Siren’s Song or no, Tony missed Bucky’s laugh, his satisfied purr when he pulled Tony close against his side, the pleased, smug rumble of Bucky’s voice when he had Tony writhing with need…

Tony clenched and unclenched his hands, and then snatched up the mask before he could second-guess himself again.

***

Bucky stared when he finally opened his door, eyes round with surprise and then his whole face tightened in worry.  _You O.K.?_  he signed.

“What? I’m fine, why–” Bucky was only wearing boxers and a t-shirt, Tony realized, and his hair was touseled. “Oh, shit, it’s like 2 in the morning, isn’t it?”

_Three_ , Bucky corrected, but his tension was fading into amusement.

“JARVIS, when I ask you where someone is, you might consider warning me if they’re asleep,” Tony scolded. He made an apologetic grimace at Bucky. “Sorry. I didn’t realize– It’ll wait for morning, I’ll let you get back to bed. Sorry.”

Bucky still looked amused. He stepped back, opening the door wider, inviting Tony in. He picked up the notepad from the table and wrote,  _Couldn’t sleep anyway. What’s up?_

“Um.” Suddenly, Tony was nervous. This was probably a bad idea. Out of line. Unworkable.  _Offensive_. Tony hesitated, clasping the box in his hands tighter, as if it might magically fly open of its own accord. “You know, maybe this isn’t–”

Bucky wrapped his hands carefully around Tony’s, stilling them. He waited until Tony met his eyes, then let go and gestured to the box. Calm, curious.

Tony steeled himself. “I was thinking about what you told me, a week or so ago, about the… the mask. Being a suppressor. And I, I mean, obviously the mask is out, that’s just horrible, but I thought maybe the, the modulating tech could be adapted, somehow, to something, you know, a little less… awful.”

_I assume you managed it or you wouldn’t be here at 3am._

“Yeah,” Tony said. “But you, ah. I don’t know if you’ll like it. You don’t have to like it. I mean, you don’t have to use it, if you don’t want to, if it’s… Well, obviously controlling me is not cool, even if it’s an accident, but if you’d rather just keep going like this, I won’t–” Bucky laid a finger over Tony’s lips and he took the hint and shut up.

Bucky pointed at the box, and Tony nodded helplessly, let him take it gently from Tony’s nerveless fingers. His breath caught when he opened it, and without warning he surged forward to plant a brief but fervent kiss on Tony’s mouth.

“That’s… that’s good?” Tony guessed. “You like it?”

Bucky rolled his eyes and nodded, then pushed the box back at Tony with an impatient gesture, and Tony couldn’t help a grin as he lifted out the necklace – thick links, for a more masculine presentation and also to hide the miniaturized and improved modulators – and fastened it carefully around Bucky’s throat. “Sorry it’s so tight, but it has to sit right at the base of your throat to–”

Bucky was kissing him again, much more thoroughly this time, and that was definitely better than talking, yeah. He wrapped his arms around Bucky’s shoulders, fisting one hand in Bucky’s hair and the other in the tee, and tried to give as good as he was getting.

When they finally pulled away, Bucky nuzzled along Tony’s jaw, then paused to whisper in his ear. “God, I love you.” That,  _that_  was exactly the hungry, worshipful tone that Tony had been bereft without. Not a siren’s Song, at all, but simply the voice of the man he loved.

“You’re sure it works?” Bucky asked, with a hint of worry.

“I ran all the analyses and tests I could,” Tony said. “The only siren call in range right now is the one coming from the bed.”

Bucky touched the band at his throat, running his finger along the pattern of the links, then picked Tony up and turned toward the bedroom. “Good. ‘Cause I’m feeling… vocal.”

  
  


 


	8. 7-Apr-2017: Non-sexual BDSM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompt:** Hi! Thank you for opening prompts and it's alright if no one fills this ;~;. May I please have a non-sexual D/s fic with Buck submitting to Tony, waaay past CACW and after getting Hydra's nonsense out of his head? Something domestic and intense, with lots of aftercare? Thank you very much! - Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** BDSM - non-sexual, but references to (offscreen) S/M play.

Bucky’s head was bowed so Tony couldn’t see his face, but he was still upright, holding the position Tony had put him in, arms and legs spread. The skin on his back and thighs was a bright, luscious red from the going-over Tony had given him with the flogger, criss-crossed with darker red and purple welts from the cane. The knuckles of his human hand were white where he was gripping the handhold and his breath was coming fast and rough, but he was finally  _still_ , calm and hopefully centered in his head.

When they had started doing this, it had been a little unhealthy, probably. Maybe a  _lot_  unhealthy. Well, whatever; it worked for them, and no one ever got into the superhero club by being well-adjusted. The Avengers had gotten back together, plus some extras, and in the field, the team was a well-oiled machine, but off it… Well. Tony had still been nursing a lot of residual anger about the whole mess, and Bucky had still been carrying around a supersoldier-sized load of guilt, and then once in the middle of an icy and snappish exchange of insults, it had just… come out. It was bravado, a dare, but neither of them had been able to get it out of their thoughts.

So, yeah, it had been a disaster in the making, but that hadn’t stopped them. They’d counted on the pain and the sweat and the tears. They’d prepared for pleading and endorphin-fueled rambling. They’d wanted the catharsis.

They hadn’t counted on the feeling of having finally sated a hunger, slaked a thirst that they hadn’t even realized they’d been suffering. They’d been wholly unprepared for the overwhelming sense of gratitude and protectiveness. They hadn’t known how much they wanted the way it made them feel needed and cared for, like they belonged.

Renegotiating had been terrifying (and had required the intervention of several other Avengers before they’d pulled their heads out of their respective asses), but in the end, so very worth it. Making it an exercise of acceptance and giving rather than one of anger and guilt had made the surrender sweeter, the catharsis cleaner, the tears a blessing.

It wasn’t about sex. Bucky wasn’t ready for that yet, wasn’t sure he ever would be. Which was fine with Tony; in this particular mindset, that wasn’t the release he craved. What it  _was_  about, now, was intimacy. It was about trust, about giving each other something they needed. It was – shockingly, given its beginnings – about  _love_.

****Tony slipped his fingers through Bucky’s hair, gentle. It was soft, a little damp with sweat. “Are you warm enough?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” Bucky said slowly. “Thank you, sir.”

“Of course,” Tony agreed, still stroking through Bucky’s hair, over and over, soothing. “Check in for me, darling, give me a color.”

“Green,” Bucky said, almost before Tony had finished asking the question. “I’m good, I’m… I’m feeling a little… floaty.”

“That’s great, I’m glad.” Tony lifted Bucky’s chin a little to check his eyes. Pupils blown so wide the irises were barely even visible. Not quite heavy-lidded, but when he blinked, it was slow, languorous. The muscles of his face were loose and relaxed before he met Tony’s gaze and smiled. “Glad you’re feeling so good, gorgeous.”

Bucky’s smile got a little wider. “Like it when you do patterns,” he said. “It’s like…” He scrunched up his face, trying to find the words.

Tony chuckled a little, and kissed Bucky’s forehead. “Don’t worry about it for now,” he advised. He tapped on the back of Bucky’s hand. “You think you can let go?”

Bucky bit his lip. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Are we… We’re not done yet?”

“No, not yet,” Tony promised. “That was just the warm-up.” He took Bucky’s hand as it slowly uncurled from the grip, and rubbed it, massaging the tired muscles and helping blood flow. “I want to try something a little different tonight. It’s something we talked about once, but it was a while ago. Is that okay?”

Bucky swayed gently on his feet. “Okay,” he agreed, leaning into Tony a little.

“You going to be able to tell me if it’s bad for you?”

Bucky nodded. “I’m here. Just a little floaty,” he promised.

Tony nodded. “Okay. Come over here with me. That’s it.” He led Bucky toward his chair. “Right there. Now, hands and knees, darling, right here.” He gently nudged Bucky into the right angle, then picked up the things he’d left in the chair and sat down. “All right so far?”

“Green, sir,” Bucky said.

“Good,” Tony said. He slid a hand lightly down Bucky’s back, feeling the heat radiating off it. “I’m going to do a little work, and I want you to be good and hold still so I can use you for a writing desk.”

Bucky’s next breath came out shaky. “Oh… Yes sir,” he breathed, and his head drooped lower, neck loose and relaxed.

“Good boy,” Tony praised. He picked up a leather-bound date book and laid it carefully on Bucky’s back, letting its spine rest over two bruised welts. A fountain pen went next to it. Last was a tall iced tea glass, though it only had about a quarter-cup of water in it for this first trial, and no ice, because Bucky’s reactions to ice play were erratic at best, and Tony didn’t want to throw that into the mix while they were trying something new. Instead, he’d dropped in a handful of dice he’d taken from an old game set. They would rattle just as nicely if Bucky moved too much, reminding him to keep still.

Bucky hissed as the cool glass touched his hot, abused skin and flinched a little. Not much, but enough to make the pen roll. Tony caught it and set it back in its place. “Be still,” he reminded Bucky, quiet but firm.

“Yes sir,” Bucky breathed.

Tony waited a moment to be sure Bucky wasn’t going to safeword, then picked up the pen and began doodling idly in the datebook. He couldn’t actually work – his tendency to get lost in his projects would not serve him well here. But he’d found the old datebook while cleaning out a drawer in his workshop, and it had sparked the idea.

He filled a week’s worth of pages with hashmarks and curlicues, then picked up the glass and pretended to drink. He set it down in a slightly different spot, and Bucky twitched, only a little, and let out a soft whine. Tony stroked his hand down Bucky’s thigh, pressing into the heated welts until Bucky groaned and whimpered and twisted a little. The dice rattled in the glass, and Bucky froze, breath held.

“Color?” Tony asked.

“Green, sir,” Bucky said, breath shuddering out of him.

“Good,” Tony said, and sharpened his tone to say, “then  _be still_.” Bucky murmured agreement, and Tony picked up the pen and went back to his doodling.

A few more rounds of that, and Bucky had stopped twitching when Tony moved the glass or pressed into his bruises. He just whimpered and moaned, his breath coming in heavy, open-mouthed pants.

Tony put everything carefully on the floor, one item at a time, and crouched in front of Bucky, lifting his chin in one hand. He smiled sweetly, as if he was delighted to see Tony. “Oh, you’re  _so_  gone,” Tony said, fond and amused and secretly delighted that it had worked so well.

“Float’n away,” Bucky agreed, slurring sleepily even though his eyes were open.

“Good, that’s what I wanted. You did so well, you were perfect.” Bucky could probably hold this position for hours at a time, but there was no need, not when he was already relaxed and floating. “You almost ready to come sit with me on the couch and come down?”

“Mmm,” Bucky hummed. “Yes sir, please.”

“All right, darling. Stay put for just one more minute, can you do that?”

“Yessir,” Bucky sighed, and dropped his head back down. Tony found the soothing lotion and smoothed it into his skin. Super-soldier healing factor meant it probably wasn’t necessary – even the darkest welts would be gone in another hour – but it felt nice, for both of them. Tony made sure to cover the whole area, enjoying Bucky’s happy little groans.

“Okay,” Tony said, capping the bottle. “Let’s get you up and over to the couch, hm?”

“Mm-hm,” Bucky agreed. He let Tony practically pick him up, though once he was on his feet, he walked toward the couch more or less steadily.

Tony put a tumbler of water into his hands. “Drink,” he commanded gently. He spread a blanket over Bucky’s lap and tucked another within easy reach. There was food, bite-sized chocolates and grapes and cheese cubes, which Tony made sure was in easy reach. He sat on the couch beside Bucky, keeping one arm around Bucky’s back.

When Bucky had finished the water, he handed off the tumblr and laid sideways across Tony’s lap. “Doesn’t that make your back hurt?” Tony asked, amused.

“Little,” Bucky admitted. “Wanna be close.”

Warmth spread out to Tony’s fingers and toes from a spark of something in his chest. “All right, darling,” he agreed.

He offered Bucky a piece of chocolate, and smiled when Bucky nipped it from his fingers. He petted Bucky’s hair, and laughed softly at Bucky’s catlike purr. “You did so well,” Tony told him. “You were so good.”

“F’r you,” Bucky said, as if Tony might not already know that. “Good f’r you. Feels good.”

“That makes me happy, darling,” Tony told him. “You’re so good, so beautiful when you’re floating. I’m glad it makes you feel good, too.”

Bucky wriggled with delight and tried to snuggle even closer to Tony’s body, and Tony laughed a little. “You’re like a puppy,” he teased.

“Mm-mm,” Bucky disagreed. “Kitten.”

“Oh, you want petting, do you?”

“Yes.”

Tony laughed again but resumed petting Bucky’s hair and arm. “All right, kitten. You want a movie, or just a nap?”

“Movie,” Bucky decided, and rearranged himself on Tony’s lap to face the TV screen. “Not sleepy yet.”

That had been Tony’s guess; Bucky usually was much closer to nonverbal if he wanted to sleep, after. “Indiana Jones?”

Bucky huffed. “You jus’ like it when I get all shivery for the whip,” he accused.

“Guilty as charged,” Tony said lightly. “Star Wars?”

“Mm,” Bucky hummed agreeably. “Th’ ones with the stormtrooper kid.”

“Friday, queue up the final trilogy for us, would you?” Tony fed Bucky a piece of cheese and slipped his fingers through Bucky’s hair, and settled in as  _The Force Awakens_  started.

 

 


	9. 10-Apr-2017: Accidental Break-in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompt:** "You broke into my apartment drunk thinking it was your friend’s house and I should call the cops but my cat kinda likes you so we’re good" AU, Tony breaks into Bucky’s house thinking it’s Steve’s but ends up at Bucky’s apartment. - Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

Jesus, why did Steve have to live on the eighth goddamn floor? And why was the elevator always broken? Tony had lost track of all the fucking stairs, and he had to hold onto the railing extra tight, because the world kept spinning around on him.

He leaned against the wall, wheezing, and slid down to sit for a moment. Shit. How much further did he have to go? He had to be close, right? He crawled to the top of the landing and squinted at the number by the door: 6.

That was most of the way. Three-fourths. Seventy-five percent. Two more sets of stairs, and he’d be there.

Tony dragged himself to his feet, because if he sat still for too long, he was going to fall asleep. Fall asleep, pass out… Close enough.

Probably he should appreciate this, that Steve had given him carte blanche to stop by anytime, even when Steve was gone, because Tony needed a place to crash. There was no way he could go home like this.

Oh, thank god, there was the landing, and the hall door. Tony all but fell through it, and staggered down the short hallway until he got to the door with the shiny brass ‘A’ on it. Steve had taught him how to break into the apartment without a key – it wasn’t hard; the interior doors and frames weren’t terribly secure. He popped the door, then slipped inside and closed it.

It was dark, but Tony knew the place like the back of his–  _Fuckshit_ _ **ow**_ **.**  Tony stumbled and folded to the floor, whimpering and rubbing gingerly at the small toe he’d slammed into… a chair or table leg, or something. Damn. Steve had rearranged his furniture sometime in the last week or so.

Okay, no big deal, he really just wanted to lay down, and the carpet here was very nice. He hadn’t realized that Steve had such great carpets. Tony laid down gratefully. This was… this was great. Tony might never leave this carpet again. Well-padded, and it had a nice texture, a nap like very stiff velvet, that felt nice under his fingers.

Something moved in the corner of his eye, and he turned to look. His eyes had adjusted to the dark, apparently, because he could just make out the silhouette of a cat, sitting just out of easy reach. Watching him.

Huh. When had Steve gotten a cat? That was nice, Tony liked cats. He wondered what its name was. Knowing Steve, it was probably a patriotic reference – like “Star” or “Stripes”, though it was still too dark for Tony to see which would suit better. “Hey there, cat,” he said to it. It twitched an ear.

“Yeah, I know,” Tony said. “I don’t even know why I go to clubs anymore. Clubs are for people looking to dance, get drunk, or get laid. They’re not for  _meeting people_. But where the hell else am I going to meet someone, I ask you?”

The cat’s tail twitched.

“All right, all right, I’ll try,” he promised. He flopped onto his back. “Starting tomorrow.”

He was starting to drift off when he felt a cool, wet nose nudge its way under his hand. “Oh, now you want to be petted?” he asked, but he obliged. The cat was very very soft, and very very warm, and its purr, which started up as soon as Tony began scratching its ears, was a deep, comforting rumble.

***

There was sun. There was sun and it was shining  _on his face_. His face which was on his head, which was throbbing in that low-key “it’s just pressure now but the instant you move it will be a full-blown hangover migraine” way. Fuuuuuuuck.

There was something on his chest, and it was vibrating.

Oh, yeah. Cat. He’d gone to Steve’s and fallen asleep petting Steve’s new cat. Well, at least the cat seemed happy. Blearily, Tony lifted a hand to pet the cat some more, feeling around for its head gingerly, because opening his eyes was going to be a monumental mistake, he already knew.

“Good morning,” said a voice.

A voice that was definitely not Steve’s.

Tony didn’t panic. Steve collected people the way a normal person collected… Tony didn’t know what normal people collected; Tony didn’t  _know_  any normal people, but the point was, Steve collected people. Tony had exactly two friends that he’d made himself, and everyone else he knew, he’d met through Steve, one way or another.

So it probably wasn’t terribly surprising for someone else to be in Steve’s apartment.

Possibly he should respond at some point, before the other guy concluded that Tony was an asshole. Which he was. But not a  _rude_  one. Usually.

Hangovers sucked.

Tony ran his tongue over his teeth and convinced his jaw to open, just a little. “Morning.”

“So… In your own time, no rush, but, y’know, when you feel up to it,” the voice said, “maybe you could tell me who you are, and what you’re doing in my apartment?”

Tony’s eyes flew open and – oh  _fuck_ , yeah, that had been a bad idea, the  _worst_  idea. He tried to sit up to get away from the sunlight stabbing him in the face, but the cat did that cat-thing where it suddenly weighed a hundred pounds and refused to be moved. Largely by dint of digging its claws into Tony’s chest and  _ow ow ow shit ow pointy_. Tony gave up the attempt and slumped back to the floor to whimper softly.

The voice chuckled, and the floor echoed and creaked a little with footsteps, and then blessed darkness fell across Tony’s face. “Oh, thank god,” he breathed, and slitted his eyes again. Curtains over the windows, now, blocking… well, some of the sun, anyway. Enough to make it mostly bearable.

Tony turned his gaze toward his benefactor, and oh,  _wow_ , what a hottie. And Tony was lying on the floor being a pincushion for a cat. Not the best first impression, sigh.

And then he looked past the hottie and – this was  _not_  Steve’s apartment. Not unless Steve had not only rearranged the furniture but bought all new stuff, and then changed out all the stuff on the walls, and… Oh god. Oh,  _god_. “This… is not apartment 8A, is it?” Tony asked weakly.

“Well done,” the guy said cheerfully. “This is 7A.”

Well, damn.

“I’m… really,  _really_  sorry,” Tony said, putting his hand over his face. The cat, unconcerned with Tony’s utter humiliation, rubbed its face against Tony’s arm. “I’m a little surprised you didn’t wake me up with a boot to the ribs,” he admitted.

“I thought about it,” the guy said, “but then I wouldn’t get to find out what kind of magic you used on Winter, there.”

Tony shifted his gaze to the still-purring cat. Now that it was light, he could see that it was grey, a single shade of gunmetal grey all over, with green-gold eyes. “Winter, I presume.” He looked back at the hottie, questioning.

The guy shrugged. “When I got him, he was this tiny little ball of fluff. That same color, but poofed out like a cloud. Reminded me of a snowstorm. And the name stuck because Winter is cold to  _everyone_. Even me, most of the time. I’ve  _never_  seen him cuddle and purr like that.”

Winter ratcheted up the volume on the purr, as if it – he – could understand the conversation and was feeling smug for having confused his owner. Tony scratched his ears. “I dunno,” he said. “I just came in and laid down on the floor – I thought it was my buddy Steve’s, I swear – and talked to him a little.”

“Huh. Well, his taste in people is impeccable – the last person he let so much as scratch his ears was my best friend. And he’s usually just standoffish, but he was downright  _hostile_  toward my ex, and that turned out to be some stellar judgment, let me tell you. That guy was a serious douchecanoe, as it turned out.”

Tony looked at Winter again, and the cat looked back, inscrutable, before slowly closing his eyes and adjusting his tail.

“It doesn’t look like he’s going to let you go anytime soon,” the guy said, amused. “I can make you some coffee, if you want?”

“Coffee sounds  _amazing_ , yes please,” Tony groaned, because no matter how warm the cat or how hot the owner, he still had a hangover. “I’m Tony, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Tony. I’m Bucky.”

 


	10. 20-Jun-2017: Natasha Matchmaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:** Imagine Natasha trying to set Steve up with both Bucky and Tony. It doesn't matter, however, because Bucky and Tony end up falling in love themselves. Steve, who was just humoring Nat, is pleased with this outcome. --Anonymous
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

Natasha greeted Steve with, “I’ve set it all up.”

Steve groaned. “Natasha…”

She bumped her shoulder against his. “I know, but you’ll really like this one. He’s  _super_  hot, very smart, almost as sarcastic as you.”

“Look, I appreciate the effort, but– Wait, did you say  _he_?”

Natasha smiled like a cat in the cream. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

Steve eyed her warily, then slumped. “Fine. Send me the details.”

***

Steve had been waiting for fifteen minutes. Even granting some leeway for Manhattan traffic, he was beginning to feel irritable about it. He pulled out his phone and was about to compose an irritable message to Natasha when a body slid into the booth across from him.

“Sorry I’m late, there was– Steve?”

Steve looked up in shock. “ _Tony_?”

 ****Tony’s eyes were wide behind his literal rose-colored glasses. “You’re my seven o’clock?”

“Your what?”

Tony picked up the water glass that was waiting for him, its ice almost melted. “Pepper told me I had a seven o’clock dinner meeting. She didn’t say it was  _you_. What’s the occasion?”

Steve ground his teeth together. “I’m here to meet a date.”

Tony barely managed to keep himself from spraying water all over Steve, and wound up coughing as the water went back down his air pipe instead. “This is a  _date_?” he croaked.

Steve put his hand over his eyes. “Apparently so.”

“I’m going to kill her,” Tony swore.

“Pepper, or Natasha?” Steve asked out of morbid curiosity.

“Yes,” Tony said decisively. He took another, very cautious sip of water. “I mean, no offense; I’m sure you’d be a great date. I guess Pep didn’t believe me when I told her I’m  _seeing someone_. Guess I can’t blame her. I’ve never kept my private life private before. But as long as we’re here anyway, let’s talk about that performance glitch in your helmet comms.”

“There isn’t a glitch in my helmet comms, Tony.”

“Sure there is,” Tony said. He pointed at Steve. “In that you keep  _taking your damn helmet off in the middle of a fight_.”

The resulting argument lasted for the entire expected duration of the “date” and wound up costing over a thousand dollars in damages.

***

“Okay, so that wasn’t the best idea,” Natasha admitted.

“That was the  _worst_  idea,” Steve told her severely.

“All right, all right. It was worth a shot.”

“It was definitely not.”

Natasha shrugged. “You’d have been  _gorgeous_  together, though. Just… Mm.” She sighed, presumably in mourning for the never-to-be-realized visuals.

“Also,” Steve pointed out, “he’s already seeing someone.”

“No, he’s not,” Natasha said. “He spends all his time working, tinkering in the workshop, or with the rest of us. He’s spent almost twenty hours just this week working on Bucky’s arm.”

Steve just looked at her.

“What?”

“It is  _very creepy_  that you know all our schedules that well,” Steve pointed out.

“You knew what I was when you all invited me to live here.” Natasha shrugged, then leaned forward and put her hand on Steve’s knee. “I have someone else for you now.”

“No.”

“Come on, this one is a  _lot_  better matched. Still smart and sassy, but not so… Tony.”

“Haven’t you done enough damage already?” Steve wondered.

“Just one more, Steve, I promise.” That’s what she’d said a dozen “dates” ago, but she was using those big eyes on him that he knew, knew for a  _fact_ , mind you, were fake.

Unfortunately, despite knowing that, they still worked.

***

“I’ll even keep it simple for you,” Natasha had said. “I’ll set it up at the coffee shop down on the third floor.”

Steve liked that coffee shop. It was mostly used by people who worked in the building, all of whom had been briefed about the possibility of an Avenger encounter, and so Steve could sit for hours in the cozy little seating area that overlooked the main lobby without being interrupted. He liked watching people come and go, and it was a nice spot for sketching.

The other Avengers liked the shop, too, so Steve wasn’t entirely surprised to find Bucky leaning on the rail, looking down into the lobby. “Hey, Buck,” he said. “How’s the arm today?” It had only been a couple of months since Bucky had finally admitted to the pain the arm caused and Tony had volunteered to try to make some adjustments to help. Steve had felt guilty for not noticing earlier, so he made it a point to ask every couple of days.

Bucky wrapped his right hand around his metal shoulder. “Getting better, bit by bit,” he said. “Where’s your sketchbook?”

“No drawing today,” Steve said, leaning back against the rail to survey the people in the shop. “Natasha set me up on another date.”

Bucky froze for an instant, and then started cursing, low and vehement.

“What? What is it?”

Bucky sighed, head dropping in defeat. “Think I’m your ‘date,’” he said. “Leastways, Nat sent me here, too.”

“Oh, for petesake,” Steve grumbled. “Is she going to try to set me up with  _everyone_  on the team, now? Did she use the eyes on you, too?”

“Nah, she told me she was sendin’ me to meet  _the man of my dreams_. I thought it meant she’d figured out… Uh, anyway. On the team? Who else’d she set you up with?”

“Tony,” Steve said, rolling his eyes. And if Bucky thought that would distract him… “ _What_  did you think she’d figured out?”

Bucky, to Steve’s surprise, started laughing, leaning heavily on the rail for support. “She tried to set you up with…” He howled with laughter, and had to fight to get himself back under control. “Well, I guess it ain’t gonna be a secret for much longer anyway,” he wheezed. “Tony’s what I thought she’d figured out.”

“What?”

Bucky was still giggling every few breaths. “We’ve been steppin’ out for a month or so, now. Well. Not so much  _out_ , ‘cause we were keepin’ it on the down-low, but I reckon that’s about to change.”

***

Steve leaned in the doorway of the library, where Natasha was devouring another one of her terrible trashy romances. “Hey, Bucky and I, we’d like to take you to dinner,” he said. “Sort of a thank you.”

She looked up with a wide, delighted smile. “Really?”

“Sure,” Steve said. “Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Buck so happy before. Guess I just didn’t know what was missing.”

“Steve, that’s  _great_ ,” she gushed.

“Sure is,” Steve agreed. “So, dinner, yeah? I’ll text you the details once I’ve got everything hammered out.”

“You bet,” Natasha said. She was practically  _glowing_  with pride.

Wait until she found out he was setting her up for a double date with Bucky and Tony.

 


	11. 1-Aug-2017: The Internet Speaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** G
> 
> **Prompt:** Bucky finds blog posts and twitter posts that are like "theory: iron man and winter soldier are a Thing" and "proof that tony loves Bucky: every picture of Tony looking at Bucky" and Bucky's been pinning after Tony but didn't think he likes him back but after seeing those posts, starts paying attention to how Tony acts around him and to him. It helps that after an outing, there's most posts to show Bucky what he missed with his back turned away from Tony. He uses this as courage to ask him out. --Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

“How’s your boyfriend this morning?” Clint asked when Bucky came back from delivering breakfast and coffee to the workshop.

“My what?” Bucky said, startled. He thought he’d been keeping that little crush under wraps, damn it. “Stark’s not– What are you, twelve?”

Clint cackled as if he were specifically setting out to prove Bucky’s point. “Oh, if only the internet knew how you bring him breakfast every morning.” He waggled his eyebrows, making it sound lascivious rather than merely a bid to keep Tony healthy. It wasn’t as if none of the other Avengers had done it; they’d had an actual rotation in place for the job before Bucky had taken it over.

“Why would the internet even care?” Bucky wondered.

“Are you serious? You haven’t seen all the pages and pages of winteriron speculation?”

“Winter what.” Clint looked like Christmas had just come early and started tapping at a tablet, and Bucky knew he was in trouble. He should just leave the room, but instead he gamely looked at the tablet when Clint passed it to him.

It was a slightly out of focus cell-phone picture of Tony air-lifting Bucky to a vantage point during a battle a couple of weeks prior. Under the picture, it said, “Guys, idk about you, but Iron Man doesn’t carry anyone _else_ like this! Look at the way they’re holding hands I just can’t!!! *swoons*”

Bucky blinked and looked at the picture again. In it, he and Tony were holding each others’ wrists; it was a good, stable hold that released quickly and cleanly. Bucky hadn’t even been thinking about his dumb crush at the time; he’d been much more focused on taking out the AIM control tower. “I’m the only one he carries like that because I’m the only one on the team with a metal arm,” he said, slightly dumbfounded.

“You have to keep scrolling,” Clint told him.

Against his better judgment, Bucky scrolled.

There was a detailed analysis of the way Tony had stepped in on that nasty reporter at their last press conference. Another picture of them together, this time at a charity function. This time he couldn’t quite refute the poster’s gushing over the way Bucky was watching Tony. He _really_ needed to get that crush locked down tighter.

He wiped out the screen and tossed the tablet back at Clint with an affected huff. “People will believe _anything_ on the internet, won’t they?”

Back in the privacy of his own room, though, he paced for a while before finally caving. “JARVIS, is there any more stuff like that online?”

“Quite a lot of it, Mr. Barnes.”

“…Show me?”

Every time they wound up in a camera frame together, it seemed, someone wanted to find a way to suggest it meant they were dating, and if they were actually interacting, it was taken as proof positive. There were sets of pictures with flowery poems and lyrics on them, and people had even written _stories_ about them getting together. Some of those were horrifyingly embarrassing, and Bucky clicked out of them as quickly as he could manage. Some were shockingly torrid, and he might have lingered for a moment on those before waving them away.

But finally, he closed the whole mess. He did _not_ need to add any fuel to that particular fire.

***

“Hey Robocop!” Tony clapped Bucky on the shoulder as he came into the room. “Thanks for the coffee. Blueberry?” He offered a foil packet.

Bucky took a few on habit. “Thanks.”

“Sure, no problem. Listen, T’challa finally sent me Shuri’s notes on your arm, so if you need a tune-up on something you can’t reach yourself, I’m good to go.” Natasha came into the room and Tony turned to greet her with a cheerful, “Red Menace. The new ‘bites holding up for you?”

He didn’t offer Natasha any blueberries, though.

It didn’t mean anything, probably.

***

“Budge up, budge up,” Tony announced, squirming his way onto the couch between Bucky and Sam with a huge bowl of popcorn. “You’re gonna love this one, Buckaroo, it’s a _classic_.”

“By which he means it’s almost as old as him,” Sam put in.

“No one asked you, birdbrain,” Tony said haughtily. “No popcorn for you! Here, Buckster, _you’re_ nice, I’ll share with _you_.”

That definitely didn’t have anything to do with Bucky; that was just Tony making a point to Sam.

Wasn’t it?

***

Everything hurt. Diving into the mouth of a giant squid to plant a concussion grenade in its stomach had not been one of Bucky’s more inspired plans. The blast had knocked Bucky out, and he’d woken in the hospital with a concussion, two cracked ribs, and a broken leg. At least the squid had upchucked him before deciding it was time to retire from the field.

He was pretty grateful to have been unconscious for that part.

Steve had been there, waiting, when Bucky woke, but after reassuring himself that Bucky was awake and on the mend, he’d gone back to the Tower to catch some shuteye, instructing Bucky to do the same, and promising someone would come over from the Tower first thing in the morning.

No way was Bucky going to be able to sleep in a hospital. He dragged the rolling table over and didn’t bother stifling a whimper at the way his ribs shifted when he leaned over to grab his tablet. Alone, with no one to see or tease him about it, he loaded up his favorite Winteriron blog. He could use a fluffy AU story right about now.

He hadn’t counted on there being footage from the fight already. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, but that damn squid looked even bigger from the vantage of the news helicopter. Bucky’s own body looked laughably tiny, caught mid-leap.

The next picture took his breath away - a shot of Iron Man diving into the water after the squid. Tony _hated_ being submerged; it was why he’d been in charge of clearing civilians for this fight. What the hell. Bucky didn’t usually pay attention to the Avengers’ own PR, but he flipped to a new tab and pulled up the news.

Son of a bitch. The squid hadn’t upchucked him. It had just… left. And Tony had gone after it, sliced it to ribbons in order to bring Bucky back. The news site had a picture of Tony carrying him to shore, and it looked like those cracked ribs had nothing to do with the concussive blast, and more to do with how tightly Iron Man was holding him.

…Huh.

A knock at the door frame startled Bucky out of his thoughts. It was Tony, because of course it was. “What are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Tony said, in that forced-casual tone that Bucky hated. “Figured you wouldn’t be sleeping either. Steve forgets that not all of us can sleep anytime, anywhere.” He nodded toward the tablet. “Reviewing the fight?”

“Yeah.” Bucky tried to close the Winteriron tab, but only succeeded in bringing it to the front. Naturally, on one of those saccharine pictures with all the flowers and Deep Quotes ™. Bucky flailed and tried again, finally closing it.

Tony, still standing in the doorway, had frozen, eyebrows raised.

Bucky had no idea what to say to fix things, so he just sat there, heart pounding.

“Funny, what people will come up with, isn’t it?” Tony said after a long moment. He sounded strained, wary.

Almost as if he were worried about Bucky’s response.

Bucky looked at the picture on the news site again, and changed his mind: it was a damn shame he’d been unconscious, if it meant he missed feeling Tony’s arms around him, even encased in armor.

“Maybe not… _so_ funny,” he said. It was a risk, but Bucky had to know. Tony’s breath caught audibly, and Bucky looked up.

Tony’s eyes were wide and dark, and he clung to the door frame with white-knuckled strength. “Well,” he said softly. “Maybe not.”

 

 


	12. 8 Aug 2017: 5+1 Jealous Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** G
> 
> **Prompt:** 5 times Bucky get jealous of his teammates relationship with Tony, 1 time Tony showed him he doesn't have to --Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

**1\. Steve**

Bucky wasn’t jealous of Steve. That would be ridiculous. Steve and Tony fought _all the damned time_ ; that was _not_ a relationship to be jealous of.

He didn’t care about the way they went from snappish to literally in each others’ faces, close enough to kiss. He didn’t care about the way Steve sometimes lost his temper and pushed Tony up against the wall. He didn’t care about the way Tony stared back when that happened, beautiful in his furious defiance.

He _liked_ it when they got along. Of course he did.

The naked admiration on Steve’s face when he told the reporters, over and over again, just how much of a hero Tony was? That wasn’t anything to get upset about. Tony had _earned_ that admiration and respect, paid for it in blood – mostly, his own.

And Bucky wasn’t jealous of the way Tony practically melted when Steve praised him, either. It was hard not to be moved by Steve’s approval – it was damned hard to win, sometimes. Tony had earned that, too.

So Bucky wasn’t jealous.

 

**2\. Bruce**

There was no reason to be jealous of Bruce.

Bruce was one of the smartest guys on the team, maybe even smarter than Tony. His mind jumped from topic to topic so fast that Bucky couldn’t keep up with what he was even talking _about_ , much less what it _meant_. He was kind and generous, a gentle soul with a nevertheless desert-dry wit. Everyone whose opinion was worth anything liked Bruce.

And Bruce had brawn covered as well as brains; the Hulk was stronger than everyone on the team, even Thor, though at least with Thor it was a close thing. But Thor had Mjölnir and Asgardian steel armor, and the Hulk had… fists. And the Hulk knew the team, liked everyone on it – but the Hulk _loved_ Tony. The Hulk went out of his way to keep an eye on Tony in combat, and had been known to make a complete change of course simply because he thought Tony might be in trouble.

Tony liked the Hulk, too, greeting him cheerfully or cracking jokes that the Hulk’s slower wit found hilarious. Tony treated the Hulk like a member of the team entirely separate from Bruce, and the Hulk seemed to appreciate that. And Tony quite clearly adored Bruce as well – they spent _hours_ locked up in the workshop together, trading ideas faster than most men could speak, eyes lit with the excitement of discovery and creation.

Nothing to be jealous of there, at all.

 

**3\. Rhodey**

Rhodes was Tony’s oldest friend. They’d met at MIT when Tony was only sixteen, a sophomore to Rhodes’ eighteen-year-old freshman. Rhodes wasn’t quite as smart as Tony or Bruce, but he was a _long_ way from dumb, having graduated MIT with honors. He’d then gone on to a long and highly-decorated military career, proving his heroism and courage over and over in the face of enemy action. And he was a capable enough pilot that Tony had trusted him with an Iron Man armor. Bucky knew enough about piloting to be impressed by that.

He was another genuinely nice guy, though he had a very low bullshit threshold and a sense of humor that was occasionally dark like pitch and sharp like Bucky’s favorite knife. Those things only made Bucky like him more, though.

Tony and Rhodes had been inseparable since their first meeting – even moreso now that they were both full-time Avengers. Clint had joked once that they might as well be lovers, and Rhodes had said, “You could not _pay_ me enough,” while at the same time throwing an arm around Tony’s shoulders with abiding affection. They were like brothers.

Like Steve and Bucky.

So being jealous of Rhodes was like being jealous of his own right arm, and that was just absurd. Bucky wasn’t jealous of Rhodes.

 

**4\. Peter**

There was no reason at all to be jealous of Peter. He was a _kid_ , albeit a freakishly strong and smart one, destined to be an Avenger someday in the not-too-distant future. Tony was his mentor, helping him design gadgets and supplying him with protective gear.

Peter’s hero-worship of Tony was bordering on the embarrassing, but Tony took it in stride, acting like Peter’s surrogate father and using that regard for the kid’s own good, nagging him to eat and keep up with his homework, worrying about him as if he were actually Tony’s own kid.

Tony called Peter after every minor skirmish in Queens made the news to make sure the kid was okay, spent hours with him in the training rooms, running through scenarios and drills. And then more hours in the lab, testing web-shooters and simple spy gear and reviewing the footage from Peter’s AI.

Peter had an AI of his own.

But of course he did; he was still learning and needed help from time to time. That’s all that was. There was no reason at all to be jealous.

 

**5\. Natasha**

Bucky might’ve been a _little_ jealous of Natasha.

From what all parties agreed had been something of a contentious beginning, Tony and Natasha had forged a solid friendship. Tony taught her the latest in computer piracy techniques and made gadgets and devices for her like he was her own personal Q.

Natasha straightened his tie before meetings and gave reporters her dead-eyed stare when they talked down about him. She’d been his only date to public functions for a good six months after he and Ms. Potts had split up, and not even gone into a rage about all the things the gossip rags said about it. She brought him SHIELD intel with the pleased air of a cat presenting its person with a dead mouse. She let Tony eat her favorite ice cream, and on movie nights, if he hadn’t slept in a while, she let Tony lay his head in her lap and doze as she raked her fingernails through his hair.

And lately, she’d taken to watching Bucky as she did it, her mouth curved into a small, smug grin.

Yeah, he was maybe a little jealous of Natasha.

 

**+1. Bucky**

_Fine_ , he was _jealous_. Of _everyone_. And not just a little, but ragingly, painfully aware of just how much of Tony’s attention they got that _he didn’t_. And he had no idea _how_ to get Tony to even notice him. It was driving him crazy.

“It’s not like I can just go over there and say, ‘Hey, pay attention to me,’” he muttered into his coffee.

“Pay attention to who?” Tony said, making Bucky jump with a not-at-all guilty start. “Who are we paying attention to? Is it me? Because I have to say, I love attention.”

“I’ve noticed,” Bucky said, smile curving helplessly warm and fond. “You’re like a cat.”

“As long as I’m not hacking up hairballs, I’m okay with that,” Tony said. “Speaking of attention, I was hoping to snag yours for a couple of hours this evening.”

Bucky blinked. Tony wanted… Bucky’s attention? “For what?” he said, like an idiot.

“Well, dinner, to start,” Tony said, head tipping to the side a little.

Bucky blinked again. Tony was standing much closer than usual and the air in the kitchen was very dry for some reason. “I’m… not sure I’m following.” Because Tony absolutely did not mean what it _sounded_ like he meant, of course not.

“Okay, well, I’m just going to– Natasha told me, and Steve says she’s not wrong, but in case they’re both pranking me, please don’t deck me, especially with your left arm because that would hurt a _lot_ and I don’t have the suit on me right now.”

Bucky was still trying to parse that when Tony stepped even _closer_ , tipped his head up, and kissed Bucky.

Right on the mouth.

That was… That was probably not some kind of code or friend-kiss or spy-manipulation sort of thing, was it? There was no one here but them. This was _real_ , this was–

Bucky needed to get with the program and kiss Tony back before he thought Bucky wasn’t interested. Or worse, about to deck him.

Bucky made a helpless noise and curled his hands around Tony’s upper arms and tilted his head into the kiss and finally got with the damn program.

Finally, Tony pulled away, panting for air. “Okay, not pranking. Good data to have. So was that a yes on dinner, or–”

Bucky kissed him again. Nobody else got to kiss Tony like this. Maybe Bucky didn’t have to be jealous, after all.

 


	13. 22-Aug-2017: Bucky in a Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **[Prompt:](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/post/164486966357/)** Imagine Bucky Barnes's brain got switched with a cat, but nobody noticed because the cat in Buck's body just sleeps all day and kinda scowls quietly at everyone, which is normal Bucky Barnes behavior. Bucky as a cat frantically ran around the tower looking for someone who can help him. Enter Tony, who picked him up and basically spoiled him so much Bucky considered being a cat forever if he can always be this close to his crush -Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

Glock was frantic the whole first hour of the flight home, running from Avenger to Avenger, meowing pitifully and pawing at their knees. Tony hadn’t seen the cat so distraught since the first weeks after Bucky had brought him home from the shelter. Usually, he rode on Bucky’s shoulders like a scarf, utterly unperturbed by anything, as long as Bucky was feeling okay.

Tony finally shed his gauntlets and scooped Glock up to see if the cat had been hurt somehow in the fight, but there wasn’t so much as a hair out of place.

Maybe he was just worried about Bucky, who’d been hit with some kind of ray near the end of the fight and fallen unconscious. But as near as they could tell, it was a normal-enough sleep. “It’s okay, buddy,” Tony told him. “He’ll wake up in a couple of hours. He’s not even hurt, we checked.”

Tony settled back into his seat gingerly, careful of his own bruises and scrapes, and scritched Glock’s ears. The cat meowed one more time, then let out a rippling shrug sort of motion and curled up on Tony’s lap, purring.

***

“Sir,” JARVIS interrupted delicately, “Mr. Barnes has awakened and appears to be in some distress.”

Tony put the sleep-ray gun into the safe and threw his safety glasses on the worktable. “I’m on my way,” he promised. He paused at the door to call Glock, who was sniffing at the door to the safe. “Come on,” he coaxed, “let’s get you back to your person.”

Glock issued what sounded like a distinctly annoyed _mrrp_ and hopped down to pad after Tony toward the elevator.

Bucky was under the exam table, squashed back into the farthest, darkest corner, staring at his hands in what looked like shock.

“Hey,” Tony said softly. “Hey, it’s okay. Bucky. Glock, no–” Glock ignored Tony’s warning and darted past Tony toward Bucky. He rubbed up against Bucky’s leg, then delicately climbed up onto Bucky’s lap to stretch up and rub his face against Bucky’s scruff.

Bucky just stared at the cat.

“Bucky,” Tony said again. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

Glock meowed, as if to underscore Tony’s words. Bucky blinked at the cat slowly, then lowered his head to bump their foreheads together.

***

Something about that mission must have stirred things up in Bucky’s head; he’d gone non-verbal and locked himself into his room. He growled and even hissed at anyone who tried to talk to him, and eventually they’d decided that he just needed to be left alone to figure things out for himself.

Even Glock left Bucky behind to follow Tony down to the workshop. Tony was reviewing the fight footage so he could analyze potential weaknesses in the team’s armor when Glock suddenly hissed and puffed up like a furry balloon.

“What the hell–”

The cat scrambled across the floor and jumped up onto the table with the least grace he had ever shown, and pointed its nose at the holographic footage with a rumbling meow, radiating menace with every bit of his eight pounds.

That was distinctly weird. Tony eyed the footage, and spotted Bucky at the far side, Glock draped across his neck as usual, taking aim at an alien that was aiming back with some kind of weird weapon. Before Tony could look closer, Glock batted at the image, dismissing it.

“Mrowwwwww,” Glock complained.

“I know,” Tony soothed. “Bucky’ll be better soon.”

“Mrow. Meow.”

“What, are you hungry? It’s not dinnertime for a couple of hours, fuzzball.”

“Mrr. Mow. Meow.”

“Oh my god, _what?_ ”

Glock was staring at him intently.

“Meow. Mrow. Mrrr. Mrow. Meow.”

Tony felt his brain begin to itch. That… That was a pattern of some sort, wasn’t it?

“Meow, meow, meow. Mrow. Meow, meow, meow.”

Seven. And then stopped. And before that had been–

“Holy shit, you little hairball, are you meowing _prime numbers at me?_ ”

Glock crossed the table to Tony and rubbed his face against Tony’s arm decisively. “That’s not possible.”

Glock blinked. Then he reached out with one paw and patted at Tony’s arm, lightly. _Pat pat pat pat pat pat pat pat pat pat pat_. Eleven times. The next prime.

“You are. You’re really… Huh. Okay, so you are not a normal cat. When Buckybear comes out of his funk, we’ll definitely have to talk to him about that.”

Glock flopped over onto his side and meowed, just once, long and pitiful.

***

“Bucky’s refusing to come out, still,” Steve said that evening. He had that line in his forehead that meant he was fretting.

“He’s probably fighting his triggers again,” Tony said. “It was a stressful fight, and you know he’s still fighting the programming. Especially the _murder Steve Rogers_ bit. Look, I’ve got some nice calm paperwork to do tonight; I’ll take Glock and we’ll go sit with him, maybe it’ll help.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

Bucky did not want to come out from the mess of blankets he’d nested in, though, or speak English.

At least there wasn’t any more hissing; that had just been weird. So Tony sat in an armchair and let Glock curl up on his lap while he worked on his paperwork, pausing often to pet the cat’s soft fur. Glock, by way of approval, let out a steady stream of purring that Tony found very soothing.

“Sure you don’t want to come out, Buckaroo?” Tony asked an hour or so later. Bucky didn’t move, and Tony leaned over to look. Yep, he’d fallen asleep.

Tony rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Glock,” he said, “let’s go get something to eat and let Sleeping Beauty here rest. Not that I’d mind being the prince who wakes him up, y’know, if I knew he wouldn’t take my head off for it.”

Glock stopped and dropped back on his haunches, head tipped as he stared at Tony.

“No,” Tony told him firmly. “You’re a cat, even if you can count primes. You’re not allowed to judge me for having a crush. Food, c’mon.”

***

They found Stephen Strange in the kitchen with Steve and Natasha, examining the sleep ray gun. “–but I’m not sure exactly where that energy might have gone,” Strange was saying in that supercilious way of his.

“Cap, Widow,” Tony greeted his teammates. “Abomination of the Third Circle.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Tony,” Strange said. “I was just explaining to Captain Rogers that the device is certainly magical, with properties of…” He trailed off, eyes fixed on Glock. “That is not a normal cat.”

“True,” Tony agreed. “It can count. In prime numbers. It’s quite the trick.”

Strange squinted at Glock thoughtfully. “I’m not sure it’s a cat at all.”

“Hooboy, Doc, have you been sniffing the mystical glue, or what? Pointy ears, whiskers, long tail…”

Strange picked up the sleep-ray gun and pointed it at Glock.

“Hey, whoa, wait a minute!” Tony protested. “Leave Glock out of your maniacal experiments!”

Glock yowled and dashed away.

“Now see what you’ve done!” Tony complained. “Steve, he scared my cat!”

“Glock is Bucky’s cat,” Steve pointed out. “And he’s been skittish since day one. Frankly, I was finding it a bit weird the way he was following you around.”

“Natasha, you tell him!”

“You’re suggesting that I take the Sorcerer Supreme to task for… what, exactly?” Natasha asked. “He didn’t even _do_ anything.”

Tony crossed his arms and definitely did not pout. “I was sort of enjoying having Glock around.”

“What if I just bring him around more, then?” said Bucky, startling everyone as he came through the kitchen door, Glock draped around his shoulders as if nothing unusual had been happening. He leaned over and smacked the back of Tony’s head, lightly. “Dumbass.”

Tony rubbed at the spot. “What was that for?”

“He _was_ the cat,” Strange put in, looking infuriatingly self-satisfied. “He tried to tell you, but you did not listen.”

Tony opened his mouth, then closed it. “Okay, but you couldn’t just have put _I am Bucky_ in the keyboard or something?”

Bucky had the grace to look slightly sheepish. “I didn’t want you to figure it out _too_ fast,” he admitted. “The petting was nice. And I liked the things you said when you didn’t know it was me.”

Oh god, oh _god_ , he had confessed his stupid crush. Okay, he could deal with this; he was Tony Stark, playboy, he could play it off as–

“I’d like to take you to dinner sometime,” Bucky said.

–as a simple physical… _Wait, what?_

Bucky and Glock were both staring at him expectantly.

Tony looked around the room. Steve’s eyes were wide, Natasha’s mouth curved in a satisfied grin, and Strange looked bored. He looked back at Bucky, whose hopeful expression was giving way to uncertainty. “Yes?” Tony said.

“Well, _finally_ ,” Natasha said, but Tony ignored her, because oh, _that’s_ what hugging Bucky felt like.

 


	14. 24-Aug-2017: Bad Luck Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **[Prompt:](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/post/164562561115/)** Tony  & Bucky were in the beginning part of their real first date when the Avengers alarm goes off setting off a chain of bad luck that ensues. Tony ends up with an injured leg, their homemade dinner ends up both undercooked and burnt to a crisp. Tony gets food posioning, Dum-E blasts them with the fire extinguisher & Steve wont stop intruding on their date. As far as first dates go not good but they just want each other & cuddling can be a good fall back bc Tony gives the best cuddles. -Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Tony brushed frantically at his goatee.

“Nah,” said Bucky, flushing a little. “I just can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

“We have been dancing around it for a while, haven’t we?” That was probably an understatement; it had taken them over a year of pining and the intervention of Sam, Natasha, Bruce, and a small herd of goats to get them to admit their mutual attraction and finally make a date.

Coffee was probably softballing it a little bit, but it had been a rocky path just to get them to the point of friendship; it was probably best to take things slow and easy. And the coffee shop in the lobby of Stark Tower was convenient, had a carefully-vetted staff that knew better than to get all fannish, and had really good coffee to boot.

Tony collected his foam-topped mug and carried it back to the quiet little nook they’d staked out. “So,” he said, and his phone began buzzing and emitting a distressed-sounding series of beeps that had been carefully selected because it could cut through even Tony’s best engineering haze. “Damn it!” He pulled it out and flipped up the holoscreen, which immediately expanded into a situation map.

Bucky’s eyes rounded and he scrambled for his own phone. “Ah, hell,” he grumbled, scrolling through the sitrip. “Guess we’ll have to take a rain check and go be heroes.”

“Looks like it,” Tony agreed grudgingly. Still, he let Bucky take his hand to help him back up out of the chair, and they shared a weak smile of mutual sympathy and frustration before parting ways, Bucky demanding details on the terrain and Tony barking orders for JARVIS.

***

Doombots hit hard, but they weren’t exactly an alien invasion, so the whole fight was wrapped up just in time for dinner. Tony shot ahead of the quinjet on the way home instead of pacing it like he usually did, and stopped off at a market for supplies. By the time the ‘jet landed, Tony was in the workshop unpacking his purchases.

“J, ask Bucky if he’d like to join me down here for a quiet dinner after he’s had a chance to clean up.”

“Of course, sir. And might I suggest that you clean up, also?”

“What?” Tony looked down at himself; he was still half-in the suit, and spattered with hydraulic fluid from where one of the Doombots had gotten in a lucky shot. “Yeah, that’s a good call. Thanks, J.” He rushed through the rest of his preparations and shoved the dishes into the oven to keep warm, then scurried off to the workshop shower.

By the time he’d finished and gotten dressed, Bucky was already in the workshop, though he wasn’t alone. He was leaning on a table, arguing with Steve about whether the hit he’d taken to the head during the fight merited medical attention.

“–if it were anyone else, Buck, they’d be laid out!”

“But it ain’t anyone else, Steve, it’s just me,” Bucky sighed. He brightened considerably when Tony came around the corner. “Tony, hey!”

“Hi there,” Tony returned, feeling weirdly shy. “Steve, relax, I’ve got this. I’ll keep an eye on him to make sure he’s not concussed, okay?”

Steve hemmed and hawed, but finally agreed. “Oh, and the suit took some damage, too,” he added. “A rip between the third and fourth lateral plates. Can you fix that, or…?”

“Yeah, sure,” Tony said. “Bring it down whenever.”

Steve finally left, and Bucky leaned against the counter of the little kitchenette that Tony mostly used for storing smoothie ingredients and protein bars. “Smells good,” he said.

“Yeah? It’s been a while since I’ve made my mom’s lasagne,” Tony admitted. “But it’s good, you’ll like it.” He was just reaching for the plates when the smoke alarm went off. _BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP–_ “Oh, shit, shit, shit–” He grabbed for the oven mitts and pulled the pan from the oven. The cheese on the top was burnt black. “Shit!”

DUM-E rolled over, fire extinguisher at the ready, and Tony stopped him with a sternly pointed finger. “Back off, you bucket of bolts, or I’m turning you into a coffee machine.” He looked back at his ruined creation. He’d set the oven too hot, he thought, trying to cook it faster.

“Hey, it’s okay, it happens,” Bucky said, soothing. “Come on, I bet if we scrape that off, the rest will be great.”

“What the hell kind of lasagne doesn’t have cheese on the top?” Tony complained. But he didn’t have any other options, so he peeled off the burnt cheese and cut slices for them both.

It wasn’t too bad, if a touch al dente… Okay, more than a touch. Okay, the pasta hadn’t baked nearly long enough to soften the noodles, and they were still crunchy. It was slightly hilarious to watch Bucky trying to pretend he liked it, but Tony stopped him after the third bite. “No, stop, that’s just… It’s terrible, okay? I know it’s terrible, you don’t have to fake it. Just… Stop.” He dropped his head into his hands.”

“Relax, Tony,” Bucky said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Shit happens. I really appreciate that you went to the effort–”

“So I checked with the others,” Steve said, coming into the workshop with an armful of uniforms, “and some of them need repairs, too, and I thought I’d just–”

“Stevie,” Bucky gritted.

“What?” Steve’s eyes were round and bewildered.

Bucky pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Pal, I ain’t got a spare date for you this time. You need to get going.”

“Spare… This is a _date_?” How about that: Captain America squeaked when he was startled and embarrassed. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize! I’ll just… go. Then.”

“Bye now,” Bucky said pointedly.

They watched as Steve hurriedly left the damaged uniforms on the nearest flat surface and scurried for the door. Bucky huffed as the door closed behind him. “Punk. Now, as I was sayin’…”

“Hold that thought,” Tony said, suddenly queasy. He bolted for the bathroom and emptied his guts. “JARVIS,” he croaked. “Is it some kind of poison? What’s going on? Did one of the ‘bots get me after all?”

“You seem to be suffering a mild case of food poisoning, sir,” JARVIS said. “It should pass momentarily.”

“What does momen–” Tony had to stop and dry heave for a while. “Oh, god, someone kill me now.”

A warm hand brushed through his hair, and when he looked up, Bucky was there, offering him a glass of water. “Here. Better’n having nothing in your stomach, trust me.”

“This is not how I was hoping this would go,” Tony said. He took a tentative sip of the water.

“Believe it or not, still not my worst first date ever,” Bucky said. He told Tony that story while Tony nursed the water, and that was okay – Bucky told it wonderfully, with great expression and just the perfect amount of exaggeration, and after a while, Tony was laughing, and Bucky was smiling back, and–

_BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP!_

“Oh, shit, _dessert!_ ” Tony scrambled up from the floor and made it to the oven just in time for DUM-E to empty the fire extinguisher all over him.

Tony wiped the foam from his face and glared at the robot. DUM-E had the sense to guiltily back away and return to the charging station. Tony turned off the oven. He propped his elbows on the counter and dropped his head into his hands. “Is it the worst _now_?” he muttered.

“Nah. I’ve got one more idea, okay?”

“Can’t possibly be any worse than the rest of it,” Tony sighed.

“You go get cleaned up again,” Bucky suggested, “and then come an’ meet me in the living room.”

“The living room? It’s movie night,” Tony protested. “Everyone will be there.”

“Trust me,” Bucky said.

“Well, if you’re going to put it like that.”

Bucky patted his back, and left. Tony didn’t move from his dejected pose until he’d heard the door close behind him.

***

Everyone was in the living room, as predicted. They were watching _The Princess Bride_ , however, which wasn’t what was on the schedule.

And Bucky had somehow managed to wrest Natasha and Clint out of the loveseat, and was already holding a big bowl of popcorn. He tugged Tony down next to him, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, fitting their sides together like pieces of a puzzle. “There,” he said warmly, balancing the bowl on their legs. “Don’t need to be all fancy. Just wanna be close to you.”

It took a little while for Tony to really relax into it, to begin to believe that no further interruptions were imminent. But finally, just as the grandfather was reassuring the grandson that Buttercup was not going to be eaten by the shrieking eels, Tony snuggled down into the cushions and let himself lean into Bucky’s side, letting out a slow breath.

Bucky nuzzled at Tony’s temple. “Still think this is the worst first date ever?” he murmured.

“Maybe not the _worst_ ,” Tony admitted, suppressing a sappy smile.


	15. 11-Sept-2017: AvAc Locker Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompts:**  
>  \- Secret admirer, identity porn, HS! AU, Tony starts leaving letter on Bucky's locker and Bucky do the same but neither knows it's the other, so Tony thinks he's got a secret admirer that's not Bucky and feels sad but looks forward to meet them, meanwhile Bucky feels guilty to reject whoever is sending these letters because he's about to ask Tony out. Misunderstandings all around, please and thank you. --dramaqueenofhell  
> \- May I ask for more AvAc winteriron please? --Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

> _Dear Bucky,_

> _I hope you’re not really as sad as you look when you’re playing your guitar because that’s too sad. Also because then I would feel guilty for thinking you’re really beautiful when you’re lost in music. I could watch you for hours._

> – _Your Secret Admirer_

Bucky read the note three times. He’d found it on his instrument locker when he’d gone to put his guitar away before his next class. He didn’t know he looked sad when he was playing; mostly he just appreciated the cathartic release of the music.

Of course, he was destined to disappoint this secret admirer, whoever it was. Bucky’s heart was already spoken for, even if he hadn’t spoken _to_ the object of his affections. How could he? Every time Tony Stark so much as waved or smiled in his direction, Bucky forgot how to talk. All he could do was stare and marvel at Tony’s beauty.

But the note gave him an idea…

***

> _Tony,_

> _Your smile is the rising of the sun. Your eyes are the brightest of stars._

> _I wish you were mine, the way I am already yours._

The note wasn’t signed. Tony read it over again, and felt a warm shiver. It was nice to be admired, even if he didn’t know who had left the note taped to the Stark Tower door. Even if it wasn’t from the one person Tony wanted it to be from, the only person on the Academy campus who _didn’t_ smile back when Tony smiled at them: the Winter Soldier, aka Bucky Barnes.

Bucky just stared blankly whenever Tony tried to say hello. And if he had found the note Tony had left for him, he hadn’t shown any sign. Maybe he wasn’t into dating at all. That might sting less than him not being into Tony specifically. But it would be an epic tragedy; the man was so _gorgeous_ …

Tony sighed, and pulled out another sheet of paper.

***

> _Dear Bucky,_

> _I saw you smile at the Blasting Range a few days ago, when you made a particularly good shot, and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I wish you had a reason to smile more often. I think I would die happy if I could make you smile at me like that, even just once._

> – _Your Secret Admirer_

Bucky frowned at the note. If only it had been from Tony, Bucky wouldn’t be able to _stop_ smiling.

And whoever his admirer was, they were only doomed to disappointment. He hoped they’d give up soon if he kept ignoring the notes. There was no sense in there being two aching hearts.

***

> _Tony,_

> _You are a magnet to which I am forever polarized, my true north. I wish you could feel the same, but I know I don’t deserve anything so magnificent._

“What if it’s an asshole, though?” Tony asked Janet, as soon as she paused her high-pitched squeeing. “Like, I dunno, Taskmaster or Crossbones?”

Janet gave Tony her most magnificent bitchface. “Can you even _imagine_ one of them saying something like this, Tony?”

“No,” he admitted.

“It’s so _poetic_ ,” she sighed. “Ooooh, Tony, what if it’s _Bucky?_ ”

“It’s not Bucky,” Tony groaned. He should never have told Janet about his feelings. “He won’t even smile back when I say hi.”

“He’s got a crush on _someone_ ,” Janet persisted. “Nat told me that Clint said that Kate told him that America heard Steve say something to him about asking them out!”

***

> _Dear Bucky,_

> _Rumor has it you have your eye on someone. I know it’s probably not me, but I guess I’d rather know for sure. I’ll be at the library this afternoon from 4:30-5. If you don’t come say hi then I’ll know you don’t want to hear from me again._

> – _Your Secret Admirer_

Bucky felt a wave of slightly guilty melancholy sweep over him. He hadn’t minded being someone’s distant object of desire, but now he was going to have to let them down.

Maybe, he thought, he should finally screw up his courage to talk to Tony, afterward. Maybe that would even help ease the disappointment for his admirer. Because they would hear about that through the gossip mill, too, and they would understand. Of course they would. Who could possibly compete with _Tony Stark_?

***

> _Tony,_

> _Words can heal as well as wound; my silence no longer serves to protect. Come to Club A at 5:30. I will be at the bar, and finally you will know who it is that you have caught in your thrall._

Tony stared at the textbook without really seeing it. It was 4:50. Professor Sarkissian class was scheduled until 4:30, but she often ran over (not that Tony had Bucky’s schedule memorized or anything), so it wasn’t _entirely_ certain that Bucky had glanced through the windows of the library, seen Tony waiting, and run as fast as possible in the other direction.

Oh, god, Tony was going to _kill_ Janet for making him do this. He didn’t care what he’d said in the note, it was _definitely_ better to live in ignorance. He would just pack up his stuff and go back to the Tower and pretend the whole thing was one of those supremely awkward dreams, like the ones where you turned up to class in your underwear.

Yes. That was an excellent plan. It even gave him another few minutes to freak out and then make sure he looked okay when he went to Club A to find out who his own secret admirer was. With any luck, it’d be someone who could take his mind off Bucky, at least for the night.

Perfect.

He leaned over to pack his laptop away, which was why he didn’t notice the library door open. He sat up and nearly startled halfway out of his chair when he saw Bucky standing by the kiosk. “Bucky! I mean, uh, hey.”

Bucky looked around the near-deserted library, then turned his gaze back on Tony. “Are you… waiting for someone?” he asked.

“No? I mean, yes! I was! But now I’m not. Anymore, that is.” Damn it, he had _rehearsed_ that smooth response, and it had gone _right_ out the window as soon as he’d looked into Bucky’s winter-gray eyes. He tried to recover enough to smile charmingly for Bucky.

Bucky’s head cocked thoughtfully, and then he said, “I shouldn’t stay too long. I have a date at 5:30.”

Tony’s heart sank. He was being let down, damn it. “Sure, I get it, no problem.”

Did the Winter Soldier just _roll his eyes?_ “In Club A,” Bucky said, enunciating slowly. “At the bar.”

Oh, god, Tony was going to have to skip his own–

Wait.

“Wait.”

Bucky lifted an eyebrow at him.

“That’s _you_?” Tony’s voice cracked a little on that, but he didn’t even care. “You’re the one who’s been leaving me notes?”

Bucky ducked his head shyly – it was _not fair_ for an assassin to look so fucking _adorable_ – and nodded.

“So when you said you had a date, you meant _me_?”

Bucky nodded again. “If you’re still interested.”

“Interested?” Tony nearly yelled. “Of course I’m interested, I– Hang on. I just need to go have a little freakout over this. Won’t take long.”

Bucky smiled at him then, and it was every bit as perfect as Tony had thought it might be. “I understand,” he said. “That’s why I’m late, too.”

 

 


	16. 14-Nov-2017: Shapeshifter Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompt:** Tony is a shapeshifter who imprints on a pack. He imprints on Avengers as his pack  & they don't realize. Could be a shapeshifting world - shifters are known & the others are not shifters or aren't pack animals or shifters aren't known. Bucky joins the team and realizes that Tony is suffering from pack rejection/broken bond -painful and deadly, wasting away. Could be after CW- bonds are broken or they never knew & cemented bond. Bucky recognizes and makes it better. No A/B/O dynamics please. --Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

Tony wasn’t so churlish as to let the world burn rather than work with his former pack, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when they called on him without so much as an apology or an acknowledgement that they’d left him to suffer the devastation of a broken packbond.

Not that they knew the full extent of what they’d done, because Tony would never give them that satisfaction. He had Pepper sometimes, and Rhodey, when they had time, and that was.. Well, it wasn’t really _enough_ , because it wasn’t really a pack, even a small one, but it kept Tony going most of the time.

So when the alien fleet was spotted heading toward Earth, Tony told them he’d be there to help them stop it.

“Tones,” Rhodey said as they suited up, “are you sure–”

“I’m sure I don’t hate the world enough to see it destroyed,” Tony said. He ignored the way his flight suit sagged over his gaunt frame and stepped into the armor rig. “We’ll show up, blow these guys back to whatever planet they came from, and be gone before the press can show up to ask questions. Simple.”

Of course it wasn’t really going to be that simple, but Rhodey didn’t call him on it, for which Tony was grateful. Rhodey had seen the reports, the same as Tony had. They didn’t really have much choice.

He’d expected it to be difficult to work with them, but it was worse than difficult. It was _easy_. They fell into the old rhythms as easily as breathing, and for a few hours, Tony felt as if he had a pack again, a network that would hold him up even as he held up the others, stronger as a unit than they were separately. He felt his own strength surge, his mind take off running, his intuition leaping larger and larger bounds. Even adjusting for the new members was only a minor effort.

Barely any effort at all for Barnes, in fact, whose serum had been based on ‘wolf plasma and whose abilities had been honed by science or torture until he nearly registered with Tony’s senses as ‘wolf, himself. It was too bad Rogers had chosen to break the pack over the guy; it might have been nice to have someone else in the pack who carried those instincts.

And then it was over. The aliens were defeated and fleeing. And the euphoria that had carried Tony through the fight ebbed away, leaving his bones cold, like all the marrow had been sucked out of them.

Romanov was looking at him curiously, and shit, he had been sidling toward Rogers, head tipped, just aching for a pack leader’s acknowledgment. A pack leader he didn’t have anymore.

He shook it off, squared his shoulders and forced himself to stand up straight. He thanked whatever gods might be listening that Romanov had a human’s nose, that she couldn’t scent the despair and desolation that must be rolling off him.

“Well, it’s been fun,” Tony said, his showman’s smile dripping off his teeth. “Be sure to call me the next time the Earth is in imminent danger.”

“Tony, are you okay?” Rogers asked, frowning.

Tony stepped back, away from the possibility that Rogers might try to reach out, to touch. He couldn’t take that now. “Stellar,” he bit off. “Just tired. Not all of us can shake off an alien invasion like–”

“Bullshit.”

Tony turned just in time to see Barnes striding toward him in full-on murder mode, his expression dark and his lips curled into a snarl.

Tony stepped back again, but Barnes grabbed at the collar of the suit and held him in place. Which was impressive, given the suit’s hydraulics and general strength.

“Yeah, okay, no,” Tony said. “Hands off the merchandise, Inspector Gadget.” Tony pushed, and Barnes let himself be pushed away.

“You’re not okay,” Barnes said. “Who did this to you?”

Tony snorted. “Three guesses, sunshine. I’m sure your new pack will help you fill in the details.”

“It’s just how Tony is, Buck,” Rogers said. “He overworks himself.”

Barnes gaped at Rogers, then narrowed his eyes at Tony. “You didn’t tell them.”

Tony threw his hands up. “What’s to tell?”

“Did they even know they were your pack?” Barnes demanded.

“Of course they did,” Tony said, and Rogers froze.

“We were your pack?”

“Oh, for _fuck’s sake_ , Rogers,” Tony snapped, “ _of course_ you were. I brought you all to live with me and put a big damn logo on the Tower! We practiced together and fought together! We had team movie nights! I know none of you are ‘wolves, but what did you _think_ was happening?”

“You didn’t say it in so many words,” Barnes said softly, “and they didn’t realize.”

Natasha’s mouth set stubbornly. “I asked you,” she said. “I _asked_ you if you were making us your pack. And you said–”

“I said I’d have to be crazy to bond with you lunatics,” Tony said. “It was a joke. I thought you already knew, and we were being… funny. Anyway, it doesn’t _matter_. You left, you _all left_ , you made your fucking choices. What difference would it have made if you’d known?” He speared Rogers with a look. “Don’t even try to lie.”

Rogers opened his mouth and closed it again.

“Right, I’m out of here.” Tony wasn’t about to let Barnes _guilt_ the Avengers into taking him back.

“No,” Barnes said, and stepped forward hastily. “At least let me come with you.”

“What?” Tony wasn’t sure whether he or Rogers said that.

“Buck?” Steve looked poleaxed.

“Look at the man, Steve,” Barnes demanded. “ _Look_ at him. I know you can’t smell worth a hoot, but you should be able to _see it_. He’s _dying_. He needs a pack, or at least another ‘wolf around him.”

“I’m not dying,” Tony lied. “I’ve got Rhodey. And Pepper.”

“Pepper lives on the west coast,” Natasha observed quietly. “And Rhodes has his own duties to pursue.”

“He visits when he can,” Tony said stubbornly. “It’s enough. I’m fine.”

“You’re _not fine_ ,” Barnes said through gritted teeth. “I can smell it on you. Please. I can’t…” He looked at Tony, bristling with challenge, and then, slowly, he tipped his head to the side. Showing his neck, deliberately making his ‘wolf subordinate to Tony’s. _Don’t make me be responsible for your death._

Tony wondered if any of the others even knew, the things ‘wolves could say, even in their human forms, without so much as opening their mouths. Shifters were rare, and most of them kept to their own enclaves. Howard had been a lone ‘wolf, better off without a pack – but Tony had never been as strong as Howard, that way.

And the idea of having another ‘wolf in the place, even if they never spoke to one another, just to scent the _presence_ … Tony wasn’t strong enough to keep rejecting that for much longer. “I don’t need your charity, Barnes.”

“Okay,” Barnes said easily. He turned to Rogers. “Gimme your neck, pal.”

Rogers, the blithering idiot, did it without so much as a blink of hesitation.

“No, don’t–” Tony tried, but by the time he got it out, Barnes had already bitten Rogers, nearly to the point of breaking skin. “Damn it, Barnes, you didn’t have to go that far.”

“What just happened?” Rogers wondered aloud. The great oaf.

“I left your pack,” Barnes said. “Now I’m packless. And it was pretty much proven when I left Hydra that I need a pack to survive, now.” He grinned at Tony like it was all a great joke. Tony half-expected his tongue to loll out the side of his mouth. “So, let me come with you?”

Tony slumped. “Fine,” he sighed. “It’ll be like a sleepover. We’ll braid each other’s hair and talk about boys.”

“Can’t wait!” Barnes said, and the weirdest thing was, he almost sounded like he meant it.

 


	17. 16-Nov-2017: mer!Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompt:** Magical beings are known. Tony is from one one the merman tribes that work with humans, and is engaged - against his will to Nanor. Tony meets Bucky when he's working at the harbor and they get along so well that Tony's mating instincts decides Bucky is a compatible partner and start the mating phases. When Bucky goes off to war so goes Tony, and they both fall into the hands of Hydra. --Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

The first time Bucky had kissed him, sitting together on the end of a pier, Tony had told Bucky that the mer mated for life. “Kiss me again,” Tony had said, “and you’ll never be rid of me. No matter how far you go, I’ll find you.”

Bucky had wanted nothing more than Tony at his side forever, and so he had kissed Tony again, slow and sweet, reveling in Tony’s cooler skin, the ridges of his gills just under Bucky’s fingers. Bucky had promised to love Tony forever.

Bucky hadn’t realized that Tony would follow him to war, though.

The cells that Hydra threw them into were dark and cold, a thin trickle of icy water seeping through the walls. Bucky felt along the stones until he found a patch of moss. He peeled it off and pressed the spongy mass to Tony’s wounds. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Oh, gods, I’m sorry.”

Tony’s hand pressed to Bucky’s face. “Shh. You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

“I should have sent you back as soon as you caught up with us,” Bucky gasped. “Then at least you’d be free.”

Tony sniffed, a pale imitation of his most haughty attitude. “As if you could have _sent_ me anywhere,” he said. “I’m a _prince_ –”

Bucky hurriedly covered Tony’s mouth. “Don’t say that out loud,” he hissed.

Tony pulled Bucky’s hand from his mouth. “–of a man,” he concluded. “The sort of man who would never leave his mate to suffer such indignity alone.”

“You can’t talk like that,” Bucky groaned. He sat back against the wall and pulled Tony into his lap to breathe the words in near silence. “If they know we’re mated, they’ll use us against each other. Hurt you in order to make me talk.”

“Mer are much stronger than humans,” Tony pointed out. “It will be unpleasant, but I will survive their primitive tortures.”

“They’ll hurt me to break you,” Bucky warned, and felt Tony quivering with rage and uncertainty. Bucky closed his eyes and willed himself not to cry. “We’re going to die here.”

“Nonsense,” Tony said. He kissed Bucky gently, and fell silent.

****Hydra didn’t even question them. Instead, they were treated as animals. They got only one plate of food a day, and one cup of water to share. The food was always on the verge of spoiling, if not actually spoiled, and mostly made of cooked grains and plants, with bits of meat or fish so rarely as to be laughable. The water was neither clean saltwater that would flush Tony’s gills, nor fresh water that would slake Bucky’s thirst, but a brackish mixture of the two, dirty with mud.

Tony tried to fight them, in the beginning. He was a prince of the mer, strong and capable – but there were too many for him to defeat. Still, he tried again, and again. But by the third day, thirst had weakened him so he could barely stand, had left him clinging to the walls in a desperate attempt to soak up their moisture.

That was when they began to experiment on Bucky, dragging him from the cell at all hours and bringing him back limp with exhaustion and hoarse from screaming. They injected strange substances into Bucky’s skin, things that made him shake violently at the invasion in his veins, things that made him scream in pain though no outward sign of injury could be found. When Tony held him in a weak attempt at comfort, his skin burned like fire.

Tony held him more closely – mer ran cooler than humans, and he had no other means of treating that terrible fever. Tony did not know human physiognomy well, but he thought Bucky might have died of that fever, if Tony had not shared it with him.

Tony was beginning to think that Bucky was right, that they would die in this dank cell.

It had been nearly a full turn of the moon when Tony was jolted from his restless sleep by the blast of a seahorn. He shook off the exhaustion and pulled the tattered remnant of his dignity about him.

He was a prince of the mer, even if he was a prisoner, and rescue was at hand.

Of a sort.

“What’s happening?” Bucky asked, trying to sit upright. Down the hall, the Hydra humans were screaming. Tony couldn’t feel bad for them.

Tony brushed the hair back from Bucky’s face. “Rest,” he said. He got to his feet just as two towering Atlanteans marched into the cell. Tony schooled his face into neutrality.

Namor strode in, still cleaning the blood from his trident. “My betrothed,” he greeted Tony.

Tony bowed low. “Your majesty,” he acknowledged. “Thank you for coming to our aid.”

“The humans grow overbold, if they think to imprison a prince of Atlantis,” Namor said sternly. “Perhaps I shall reconsider my stance of neutrality. But first, we shall see you restored to your place in the–” He paused, nostrils flaring as he leaned close to Tony. “You have mated,” he said. “Who would dare?”

Tony lifted his chin. “I dared,” he said. “My mate knew nothing. _I_ made that choice. I love you as my sovereign lord,” he swore, “but I cannot love you as your consort. The betrothal was not made with my consent.”

Namor’s eyes were as cold and dark as the deepest waters, but Tony did not allow himself to quail. “Nevertheless, with or without your consent, the betrothal was made. And with or without his knowledge, your mate has taken that which is mine. Look aside, if you do not wish to see his death.”

“No!” Tony begged. “Please. He didn’t know. Let him live. Let the punishment fall on me instead! Only let him leave this place alive.”

“Tony, no,” Bucky gasped. He struggled up from the floor, groping for Tony’s hand. “Don’t!”

Namor hesitated. “Never let it be said that I am lacking in mercy,” he said. “Or patience.” He held out a hand with brusque expectation, and Tony, already aching in his very soul, took it. “We shall return to Atlantis,” Namor declared. “I cannot force you to honor our betrothal while you are mated to another, of course. As a prince of the mer, you must be treated with respect… But you shall remain at the palace with me, where you can be monitored. Humans are fickle and short-lived, and so you are forbidden to visit the human lands for a period of fifty years, or until this mating is released. And in return, I shall allow your… mate… to go free from this place. To seek his own kind and forget you.”

It felt like a stab to the heart. Tony had worn legs for so long he wasn’t even sure he remembered how to shift them back into his tailfins, but… Fifty years under the waves? Fifty years without breathing human air, fifty years without their strange dishes, fifty years without their fascinating machines. Fifty years without _Bucky_.

It was a long enough sentence for a mer or an Atlantean – but for a human? Bucky would be old and bent, or even dead, before Tony was released. No human could be expected to be true for so long.

“Tony,” Bucky cried. “You can’t! I’d rather die than forget you.”

Tony bowed his head and looked back at Bucky, at his beloved mate, for the last time. “I’d rather you forget me than die,” he said. “It’s the only way. I love you. Live well.”

***

The Winter Soldier opened his eyes. He was lying on a bed, not an operating table or a restraining chair. Everything was very clean; he could smell alcohol and bleach. He was not restrained.

“Bucky?” Captain America – no, _Steve_ – was sitting next to the bed, perched on the edge of a chair. The Winter Soldier – no, _Bucky_ – met those clear blue eyes and his memories began to filter in, slowly at first and then like a flood.

_Bucky fought Ca–_ Steve _, and then saved him, pulling him out of the depths of the river before he could be crushed or trapped by the debris of the destroyed helicarrier. And then Bucky left._

_He found himself in a museum, an exhibit that detailed Captain America’s life. Bucky recognized himself, somehow, in the bright-eyed and round-cheeked youth who stood at Steve’s side. He recognized their old companions in the little nook dedicated to Steve’s old squad, both human and not: Dum-Dum and Monty and Dernier. Toro the fire-fairy. Namor, king of Atlantis._

_Bucky’s lip curled in spite at the photograph of Namor. He recalled what seemed like dozens of earnest speeches from Steve, begging Bucky to set aside his personal feelings for the sake of the war, but he could not recall why he had hated the monarch so viciously._

_Not until he turned a corner and found himself surrounded by representations of Captain America’s new team: a demigod of legend, a man possessed by a rage demon, a shadowsprite, a human of extraordinary marksmanship talent, and the most beautiful merman Bucky had ever seen. Bucky whispered a name without knowing how he knew it, and as the word passed his lips, his heart felt as if it had been torn in two, crying out desperately for– his mate?_

_When he could breathe again, Bucky went straight to the museum security desk and offered to turn himself in._

“Bucky, you okay?” Steve asked, and Bucky jolted out of the memories to the awareness that tears were slipping down his face.

“Stevie?” he whispered. “Is this real?”

“Yeah, Buck, it’s real,” Steve said. “If you think you’re up to it, I’ve got someone here who’d like to see you.”

Bucky sat up, ignoring the pain it caused to move so far, so fast. “Tony?” His breath was coming in short pants and his chest ached with desperate hope. “Is he…”

“Fifty years and then another couple of decades on top of that,” came Tony’s voice, chiding, and then the mer himself swept into the room, his gillslits pulled so tight he might almost be mistaken for a human.

“Oh, god, _Tony_ ,” Bucky breathed.

“You humans never do what you’re supposed to do,” Tony said, and despite the irritable tone, his eyes were wide and liquid as he took Bucky’s hand and pressed it to his cheek.

Steve fumbled his way out of the chair. “I’ll just… I’ll be back later, yeah?”

As soon as Steve had left the room, the remnants of Tony’s arrogant facade slipped away. “Namor told me you were dead,” Tony said. “And I told him that I could still feel you. I begged him to let me find you, but…”

“They’d have taken you again along with me,” Bucky said. “I’m glad you didn’t come looking.”

“They hurt you so much…” Tony’s fingers brushed Bucky’s cheek, cool and comforting.

“They couldn’t take you away from me,” Bucky told him. “They couldn’t unmate us.”

“I told you when you kissed me the first time,” Tony said, still stroking Bucky’s skin as if he couldn’t stand to stop, as if he feared Bucky might disappear again at any moment, “I told you: mer mate for life. I told you I’d find you, no matter how far you went.” He bent and kissed Bucky lightly. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> In addition to writing Tony/Bucky shorts for the [imaginetonyandbucky](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com) blog, and post/reblog my little multishipper heart out at [everyworldneedslove](http://everyworldneedslove.tumblr.com)!


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